


You All Come To Me Broken

by Knight_In_Heels



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anderson Is a Dick, BAMF Lestrade, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Come Eating, Consensual Violence, Crying, Daddy Kink, Deep stuff, Derogatory Language, Dom Lestrade, Dom/sub, Don't say I didn't warn you, Fingerfucking, Frottage, Hair-pulling, Headspace, Hurt/Comfort, I'm not sure if this qualifies as a happy ending, Lestrade is a Good Man, Lestrade really does use a lot of foul language in bed, Loneliness, M/M, Masturbation, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Being a Bastard, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Mycroft Worries, Name-Calling, Not A Fix-It, Pain, Pet Names, Porn With Plot, Pre-Canon, Prostitution, Punishment, Rehabilitation, Sequel in the making, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Being an Asshole, Sherlock Holmes and Drug Use, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Spanking, Stress Relief, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Voyeurism, We all know how it ends, Whipping, blink and you miss it - Freeform, sherlock is a prostitute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:56:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 44,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8575633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knight_In_Heels/pseuds/Knight_In_Heels
Summary: When Lestrade meets Sherlock (five years before Sherlock meets John), he's not yet Sherlock at all. He's still William, and scraping by as a prostitute on the streets of London. Greg is lonely and heartbroken when he runs into Will. It doesn't take both of them too long to notice that they're both pretty fucked up, and that being fucked up together can cauterise many wounds.





	1. Chapter 1

The first time Greg slept with Sherlock, he was very drunk.

He didn’t know the boy’s name. Of course not. There was only the vague memory of a very painful night just after his divorce, a lot of beer, even more Vodka, sickeningly fresh night air, blue, hooded and decidedly glazed-over eyes (probably from drugs), a mop of short dark curls and to-die-for lips. The first time Greg had had a man had been a good twenty years ago, and he had thought of it as a “phase”. But the boy offered himself up so beautifully and Greg was so drunk and lonely...it just happened. 

Before he knew it, he had the boy up against a dirty back-alley wall, both men’s trousers and pants pulled down just enough. Even in his drunk state, Greg marvelled at the creature he was using. Maybe it was the alcohol, but he found the boy uncommonly beautiful, unusual, but beautiful. His body seemed skinny, very skinny, but it was hard to tell; too many layers of clothing in the way. Yet, the curve of the pale neck seemed more enticing than anything Greg had seen in the last few years, and the round globes of the boy’s arse looked too good not to imagine slapping them. When Greg looked down to where his cock disappeared rhythmically (more or less - damn the alcohol) between those perfect pale cheeks, it almost finished him off right away.

Greg reached around the very young man and tried to fondle his cock, but the boy batted his hand away.

“You didn’t pay for that. If you want to enjoy more of my body, you’ll have to pay a little extra.”

Right. He had chosen the basic express package, so to speak. Somehow, that was a devastating and rather sobering thought, but Greg tried to push it aside and concentrate on finishing. Never try to kill loneliness with a prostitute, Greg reprimanded himself when he pulled out afterwards and got rid of the used condom. While glancing sideways at the boy as they both yanked up their trousers again, he noticed with another strange stab of frustration that the other man’s dick was very obviously limp, and had very certainly been all the time. Of course, why wouldn’t it? Why would a prostitute enjoy what his clients gave, anyway?

“If you don’t mind…” the boy said, and irritation was clearly audible in his voice. An obvious cue.

“Right...uh...thanks.” Greg turned away, embarrassed.

He heard the young man snort softly behind him as he walked away as fast as he could without running.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are really getting interesting when Greg gets to take his boy home.

Greg knew that he was in trouble the minute he noticed that he couldn’t get the boy out of his head. It was definitely NOT acceptable to be daydreaming about some prostitute one had picked up after a night of heavy drinking. Greg knew that it was the loneliness. It was eating him alive, every day, every hour he wasn’t able to fill with sleep or work.

So he knew he was in even more trouble when he turned up, drunk again, but not _that_ drunk, in the neighbourhood where he had seen the boy last time. To Greg’s relief and horror, he was there alright, and greeted him with a somewhat derogatory grin from where he was leaning against the dirty wall. Greg had always thought it was the other way around, the contempt, but there was no doubt about who the pathetic one was, here.

“Won’t your wife wonder where you are?” he asked in a rich voice that Greg must have forgotten. It was beautiful, and the thought horrified Greg even more.

He flinched violently. “I’m not married.”

“I know that. You were, though.”

“...yes. How do you know? Why did you have to ask, then, anyway, if you know?” Greg asked, pissed off and hoping it would remain that way so that he’d come to his senses and go home before anything could happen.

The boy shrugged, but didn’t answer the questions. “Do you remember my prices or do you need the terms and conditions again?”

“You’re not very charming today. I imagine that’s pretty bad for business,” Greg bit out.

The boy cracked a short smile. “You’re still here, though. And I don’t think you’ll leave.”

Dammit. Greg hated feeling so exposed. “You might consider being a bit nicer, though,” he grumbled.

The boy smiled viciously. “I’ll be whatever you want me to be, so long as the price is right.”

Greg snorted, but knew, of course, that it was the truth.

“You want something else this time.”

Again, with that analysis. It made Greg very uncomfortable. But he nodded. “How do you know?”

The boy looked at him as if he couldn’t believe how anyone could ask such a stupid question, but sighed, resigned, after a moment. “Clients who just want a short fuck as you did last time, they approach, ask the price or, if they’ve seen me before, sometimes just nod, or simply give me the right amount of money, and get on with it. They don’t want to talk. When I asked about your wife, if you’d have wanted the same as last time, you’d have told me to shut up and turn around. You didn’t, though. You kept talking, which means you _want_ to talk, and that you’re lonely and you’re here because you think I can help you with that.”

Greg would have liked to just turn around and leave. He hated this, hated that it was so obvious, how he felt, what he wanted. It _hurt_. To hear it, actually hear how lonely he was, hurt.

He opened his mouth, found that he didn’t know what to say, and closed it again.

The boy pushed himself away from the wall with a brisk movement of his shoulders, and his eyes seemed to grow a little kinder. “I don’t usually do house calls. Only for special clients.” It was very obviously an offer.

“I bet you say that to everyone,” Greg grunted a little surly.

The boy shook his head, and Greg saw the scowl for a millisecond, before the other one hid it behind his professional mask.

“No, I really don’t. Just because I’m a whore doesn’t mean I lie or deceive with everything I say. I didn’t tell you the price for a night the first time, now, did I? I never do. Nobody wants a whole night the first time. And next to nobody ever gets one.”

“Wouldn’t that mean a lot more money for you, though?” Greg asked, aware that he was making unnecessary conversation with a rentboy.

The other man nodded. “Yes, but it’s very risky to go home with clients, and when it earns you more money, you have to do more for it.”

Greg couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter. “Sounds like you’re just lazy.”

The man’s expression darkened a little. “It’s not that. But you’re probably forgetting, I wasn’t born a prostitute. The less exposed I am, the better. So I’ll present just my arse and wait for the client to finish rather than take off my clothes and let them see and touch and kiss me, any day.”

Suddenly, this felt too personal, too real for Greg, and it was uncomfortable. The only way to do this was to not see the human being behind this job, it was far easier when it was only _meat_ , not a man who had to breathe and eat and brush his teeth, who had parents and childhood memories. That counted for every dead body on a crime scene, every suspect, everyone, actually, _everyone_ in the world that one didn’t know intimately.

Greg wanted to ask furiously why the boy was telling him that and thus shattering his illusion of _just a hooker_ . But one good look at the _hooker_ told him that this was not only information, but a test. How much of an asshole is my client. The man was not worried about scaring Greg away, obviously. He knew that after that first time, or at least at the moment, there was no quick money to make here, either. And if he really was thinking about going home with Greg for the night, he was probably very right to test the waters and see if he really should follow him, no matter the turnover.

“If you want to come with me, it doesn’t matter that I pay you. I won’t do anything you tell me not to do.”

The boy scrutinised Greg’s face for a long minute, then a trace of the haughty smile played around the impossibly full lips. “You must be proud of yourself for coming up with this answer. Ten points. If you want, and if you can pay, I’ll come with you.”

Greg tried to shake the stupid feeling of happiness that tried to bubble up inside him and push the image of _just a hooker_ back into place over the gorgeous face.

“How much?”

The boy named his price.

“Fine.”

 

The whole way to his flat, Greg asked himself when he had fallen so deep, and then reprimanded himself, because the creature next to him had certainly fallen deeper, and then reprimanded himself again for thinking that.

“What’s your name, anyway?” he asked as he opened the door to his flat and held it open for the boy.

The young man looked at him, astonished and obviously not used to being treated with the least bit of politeness, and went inside, followed by the police officer.

“It doesn’t matter what you call me, you can choose any name. If you have anyone you’d rather think about when we’re at it, say that name. Happens all the time.”

The answer was so careless, almost bored, that it made Greg wince. The boy was scanning the room with his eyes, methodically, probably memorizing the shortest escape routes.

“That’s not...I want to know _your_ name.” Jesus, did people care so little? But then again, wasn’t that the idea?

Two sharp blue eyes met his, assessing. “Will.”

“Huh?”

An eyeroll. “William. Will. The long version is a mouthful with all the blood directed downwards from the brain, though, so you might want to use the short one.”

Greg nodded stupidly. “Right. So. I suppose you have more...terms and conditions about how this works.” He felt so stupid, having this conversation, but it was necessary. After all, he didn’t have any experience with these situations.

The boy - Will - grinned again, obviously knowing that he had a newbie on his hands here. Had probably known from the first minute.

“Yes. This is how it works. You pay beforehand, as in, now, I suppose. Then you can do whatever you want, with a few exceptions. No bondage, no handcuffs, no tying me down or any of that kind for now. No breathplay. No faeces. You already know that condoms are non-negotiable, even for blowjobs, either you wear one or I’m out. You may fuck me any way you want, in any position you want. You can touch me anywhere and you may kiss me if you like. You may ask me to do or say anything you like, though I will say no if it goes past my hard limits. Should you want something you’re uncertain about, ask my permission first. If you want me to call you by anything but your name or be completely quiet, that’s fine as well, just as you may call me anything you like, whatever comes to your mind. I’d like for you to tell me if you want me to stay the night or leave when you’re done before we get started, and if you have any particular behaviour in mind that I should adapt, tell me. I’ll use your bathroom before, during and after as I see fit. Alone, unless I invite you in. Lastly, you won’t lock any doors between me and outside while I’m here.”

Greg whistled. “That’s quite a lot of rules.”

Will shrugged. “It’s quite a dangerous business, too. Pocketing the money and letting your client do whatever they want is complicated in a world where violence and a wide variety of sexual appetites prevail. The days where people paid you for a go, put it in, finished and left, are over. You, as a police officer, know that violence against people like me is common these days.”

“Hold on!” Greg said, startled. “How do you know that I’m…”

“A cop?” Will smiled his haughty smile again. “Really, _Officer Lestrade_. When you opened your wallet to give me the money last time, I saw your ID. Plus, I know a cop when I see one.”

Greg opened and closed his mouth like a fish, amazed how simple the solution was and how utterly clever at the same time.

“Anyway. You can do a bit of...planning beforehand, when you know what you’re allowed to do and what you’re not allowed to do. It saves a lot of squabbling, disappointment and difficulties for you. No negotiations in the bedroom about what you can do means I don’t have to say no all the time, in case you were a pervert with the wildest sexual appetites. Which you’re not.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Of course I do.”

Greg snorted and shook his head, and finally got rid of his coat and scarf.

“What? Do you doubt me?” the boy asked, and his eyes flashed. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“I didn’t say that, it’s just that my...sexual appetites are NOT on my ID and you simply can’t know.”

“Please,” Will scoffed and followed Greg’s example, shrugging off his black outdoor jacket and hanging it up next to Greg’s coat. “It’s my job to know what you like. As a pro, you become quite a good judge of character, you have to. Now,” he said, when Greg started to say something else, “I could say I don’t have all night, but I actually do. So unless you want me to go, you should pay up, and tell me if you want me to stay or not, and if you have any preferences you want me to know about. Then I’ll use your bathroom and we can get started whenever you like.”

Greg fumbled for his wallet, somehow still incredibly embarrassed about the whole situation. The young man pocketed the money without a word and looked at the older man, waiting.

“Uh, right. I...if you...want to stay the night, I suppose that’s fine. I don’t know what...I don’t have any… preferences, I guess.” He’d very much prefer to stop feeling like an idiot, actually.

The young man smiled at him, his face melting into a comfortingly warm expression all of a sudden, and stepped closer and closer while he said: “There’s no reason to be nervous. I’ll know your preferences soon enough. I know that you’re new at this. Try to relax, I’ll do the work for now if you’d rather not take the lead. I’ll make you want to, in no time.” He was close enough to kiss him, then, but he didn’t. He offered his lips, though, and Greg accepted, too shyly for his own taste. And god, those lips! It had been a very long time since he’d last kissed anybody, and he felt a jolt of energy course through him. He moaned, embarrassingly, from the kiss alone, but Will wouldn’t let him go, but deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth. Greg felt his cock twitch happily.

At long last, William pulled away. “Where’s your bathroom? I’ll freshen up a bit.”

Greg nodded in the direction of the bathroom door and waited with a rapidly beating heart for the young man to return. It was annoying, how he felt, as if he were a teenager after his first fumbling kiss, about to see the first bit of naked skin in his life. When Will emerged from the bathroom again and saw him standing right where he had left him, he smiled the first genuine smile Greg had seen from him.

“You’re tense. Don’t worry, I’ll change that. It’s not unusual.” He came closer and they kissed again. “Now, where do you want me?” the young man asked in a seductive whisper, and it didn’t _feel_ staged, but genuinely sexy. It was like he was looking at a completely different man, and Greg knew it was all a professional show, but god, it felt so real, so intimate, as if they had met in a pub and Will were here of his own accord and not for the money.

“Bedroom,” Greg choked out and let a smiling William tag him along, because of course, the boy would know by now where the bedroom was.

Once there, Will deposited Greg on the edge of the bed, a tube of lubricant and a few condoms next to him (where the hell had those come from, anyway?), and closed the door behind them. After a moment of silence in which he seemed to scan Greg’s entire being just with those startlingly blue eyes, he came over to the bed and gracefully dropped to his knees. Slowly, watching Greg’s no doubt laughable expression, he removed the black cotton dress shirt and another two shirts that he was wearing underneath, then he let Greg look his fill. He was as skinny as the officer had anticipated, but he did have a few muscles that stood out nicely, the type of muscles you got on the street. Otherwise he looked as if he didn’t eat at all, but he still looked perfect to Greg, which should probably have worried him, but didn’t. It didn’t worry him at all that all this was wrong and twisted and that he should have arrested the boy instead of bedding him, but said boy was now opening Greg’s trousers and Greg didn’t care about any bloody thing at this moment, except where that condom had come from that seemed to have suddenly appeared on the tip of his cock, and Will was pushing it down expertly with his lips. When had he gotten hard, anyway? And _fuck_ , those lips again! He grabbed a handful of short ebony locks, but let go again in an instant, because he remembered that, ‘no breathplay’, and he was probably not allowed to pull the boy closer.

Will, however, looked up at him and, while sucking his cock like sin incarnate, grabbed both of Greg’s hands and put them back on his head, squeezing them a little. So he was allowed to keep them there, Greg supposed, and experimentally pushed the boy’s head down, ever so gently. To Greg’s genuine surprise, Will moaned around him as if he was really enjoying the touch. He certainly was sucking Greg’s cock as if he was enjoying it.

“Jesus,” Greg panted, and, feeling his balls tighten much too soon, pulled on the curls his fingers were fisted in before thinking it through.

“Sorry,” he said, trying to get his bearings again.

Will licked his lips. “What for?”

“Well, pulling your hair.”

The young man chuckled. “Lestrade, there may be a lot of rules, but it’s not like you can’t do _anything_. I can take it rough, and not just a little. That’s my job, it’s normal. The rules are there to make it clear to my clients that I won’t tolerate abuse and violence. You’re not violent or abusive. And if pulling my hair is what you’d like to do, by all means, go ahead. I’ll tell you when it’s too much.”

Greg huffed. “I don’t know if I’m not violent. With you, the way you look at me right now, I really don’t know. I’m terrified of not knowing, though.”

Will smiled, to Greg’s astonishment, and bent down to gently mouth at Greg’s thighs.

“Don’t get carried away, then, at least not too much. I don’t think, though, that you’d hurt me in this situation here, at least not if I don’t want it. You have a bossy, authoritative side. All cops do, some more, some less. You’re also protective. Not all cops are.” The boy fondled Greg’s thighs and pulled the officer’s trousers and pants down and off, along with his socks. Then he stood. “Would you like me to take the rest of your clothes off?”

Greg just stared at him for a moment, but shook his head and pulled off his shirt himself. He saw Will’s gaze roam his body and suddenly felt very old, and very naked. Not that he wasn’t fit or anything, but he felt very vulnerable and exposed with such a gorgeous young man in the room, staring at him. Embarrassingly, he felt his erection wilt a bit.

The boy, however, smiled and began to open his dark blue jeans, making a show of it, stripping down like the pro he was. His legs were just as skinny as the rest of him, but the only thing Greg could concentrate on, really, even though he tried to act like he wasn’t looking, was the young man’s cock. It was a tad longer than Greg’s own and would probably look gorgeous when erect, though for now, it was perfectly limp. Greg noticed that the man’s pubic hair was trimmed carefully. Keep your work tools presentable, he thought, and suppressed a snort.

“Can I touch you?” Greg asked uncertainly.

“I told you, yes. Wherever you like.” Will stepped a little closer, and it looked inviting.

Slowly, Greg reached out his hand and caressed the man’s abdomen, just to let his hand trail further down to that pale pink cock, though he barely rubbed it with his palm for now.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. You want to know if I derive any satisfaction from my encounters with my clients.”

Greg didn’t ask how Will knew that, he just nodded. Will smiled crookedly.

“Sometimes. I’m only human. But to tell you the truth, mostly, I don’t. Then again, you know how I usually do it: out in the cold, in some side street, barely touching. When I go home with someone, it does happen more often that I enjoy it.”

“Are you actually gay?” The words tumbled out of Greg’s mouth before he could stop them. “I mean...I know how it sounds, I just meant...I’m sorry. Forget it.”

The younger man scowled at him for a moment. “It was a respectless question, yes. But I know you didn’t mean it like that. What I do for a living has nothing to do with my personal preferences. I’m not a trade, though, or gay-for-pay, as you might say; I _do_ like men. I also do like women, theoretically. If that answers your question.”

“Sorry,” Greg repeated. “I shouldn’t have asked. It’s just...I was asking myself, if you enjoy it...I mean _when_ you enjoy yourself, from time to time at least, which would probably be hard if you were not into men…” He huffed. “I’m sorry. I’m saying all the wrong things, am I?”

“Yes, you are,” Will said dryly. “Shall we just get on with it?” He actually crawled into Greg’s lap without a warning and let his fingers glide along the older man’s torso.

“Yes. It’s just that...I like when my partners enjoy it, and, well, if you won’t…”

The young man kissed him, obviously trying to shut him up. “Leave that to me. Stop thinking so much. Remember, _you’re_ here to enjoy yourself. I can tell you keep talking because you’re very nervous. There’s no reason for that. Relax,” he purred, and caressed Greg’s chest, playing with the graying hair.

“You probably get a lot of old men like me, huh?”

“Lestrade. Stop asking me those things. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend. Just let your mind go blank. Imagine that I like it.” Will looked up, his face completely changed again, a flawless mask, a sweet, alluring smile. “I like older men. Men your age know what they’re doing.” Will’s fingers traced little circles on Greg’s chest, still playing with the hair, and he kissed him, softly and gently. He was good at this game. Slowly, he began to rub his hips against Greg’s, and the older man moaned at the soft pressure. Warm, plush lips nibbled along his jawline and small, rhythmic gasps tickled his right ear a second later, almost inaudible, as if the boy on his lap was trying to suppress them. Greg felt his cock harden again. Will was all soft touches and sighs now, rolling his hips against the older man’s, and his hands were wandering down Greg’s body, reaching for his cock and pulling off the condom he had used to fellate him. And oh, his hands were just as talented as his tongue! The boy stroked him expertly, and he couldn’t help but moan, even though the plush lips were on his again in a flash, and snogged him so thoroughly that he had to come up for air after a few minutes.

“God, you’re...perfect,” Greg babbled, and the unearthly creature on his lap smiled and leaned forward to whisper into his ear.

“Please tell me I can ride that cock. Tell me you’ll allow it.” Will looked into his eyes intently while he said that, and Greg had to bite his lips.

“Fuck!”

The young prostitute smiled triumphantly, then he let his eyes grow a little wider, his face a little younger. Only the devil knew how he did that, he looked a good ten years younger, which was kind of dangerous; he wasn’t that old to begin with, barely over twenty. His next words were obviously very carefully chosen.

“Will daddy let me ride his cock?”

Greg’s whole world slammed to a sudden stop. His head felt dizzy with the blood that seemed to rush south, even though he had been hard already. It shouldn’t have been so freaking hot, it shouldn’t have been!

The young man on his lap had obviously noticed both his arousal and his discomfort, because he leaned forward and whispered into his ear.

“Stop thinking, just let it happen. It’s okay. Kiss me, daddy?” He said the last one a bit louder, back in his role, and offered his lips.

Greg couldn’t say no. His head still spun with arousal. This was wrong, but it was _hot_! He kissed the young man yet again, who let his soft tongue play  with his client’s.

“Would you like to hear what I want, daddy? I want to tell you, please, can I?”

Greg could only nod. The boy sounded far _too_ boyish, in fact, and Greg still had the feeling that he was steadily getting harder, which was impossible, since he had the feeling he’d never been so horny in his life. Will leaned forward again to purr into his ear.

“I so want to sit in your lap properly, I want to sit down very slowly and feel daddy’s cock, how it presses against my little hole, and then when I lower myself, I could feel it slip inside slowly and I’d feel so stretched, but I’d keep going until I sit in your lap like a good boy, daddy. And if you let me, I’ll ride your cock, I want to make you feel good. Will you let me, daddy? I want to feel daddy inside me so badly! I want to make daddy come in me.”

“Fuck!” Greg moaned and grabbed the young man’s arse, hard. “Come here!”

It was obviously what the boy had been waiting for. He grabbed a fresh condom, tore open the wrapper and rolled it down Greg’s aching cock with practiced movements and a few extra strokes. Greg didn’t look down. He had his head thrown back and his eyes half closed. He knew, if he saw the obvious disinterest of the younger man on his lap, he’d hate himself.

He could feel the talented fingers slicking up his cock with lube. Will didn’t prepare himself in any way. He’d been fully prepared last time, and he had certainly made good use of the time he had spent in Greg’s bathroom. There was a moment of silence as the boy positioned himself and let Greg’s cock nudge against his entrance, then sank down inch by inch, just as he had said he would. Greg drew in a deep breath at the feeling of the tight heat around him, and almost missed the other one’s small, bit-back moan. The police officer opened his eyes, and clenched his hands around the beautiful arse on his lap, because Will looked absolutely angelic. His face was tense, as if he was telling himself to be quiet, he was biting his lips, and with a swift look, Greg noticed that the boy was half-hard at least. He made a decision, and grabbed the boy a little harder, pulling him towards himself. He mouthed at Will’s neck, kissing him gently, nipping at the skin from time to time, caressing his back with his hands. The young man gasped quietly in surprise and let his head fall back a bit so that Greg could reach more of the sensitive skin. With a feeling of satisfaction, Greg felt the other man grow harder against his belly, and slowly started thrusting into the warm body on his lap. A breathy moan escaped Will’s perfect lips. His eyes were closed, brows furrowed.

“Daddy,” he whispered, voice a little whiny with arousal, and it sent shivers down Greg’s spine. Maybe Will did like that game, he certainly looked like it, and even though it probably wasn’t Greg personally that he enjoyed being with, but he _was_ enjoying himself quite obviously, and it made the officer feel a lot better about this. If he could give the boy something good this way, he would.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to ride daddy’s cock?” he said, refusing to think about the fact that such words came out of his own mouth at all.

Will opened his eyes, looking too young again, but obviously very far gone. “Can I, daddy?”

“Of course, baby, go ahead, ride it.”

The boy flashed a smile, and started to rock his hips. Within a minute, he was bouncing up and down on Greg’s lap, looking positively scandalous. His arms were around the older man’s neck and his eyes were half closed. His cock was rock-hard by now, and Greg tried to hold on. He knew it was probably stupid, but he couldn’t help it, he wanted the boy to enjoy himself, no matter what he was, and he didn’t care that he had paid him to make Greg himself feel good. The police officer grasped the other man’s cock and began stroking it, relishing the little whine that dripped from the plush lips.

“How does it feel, baby?” he asked.

The boy moaned. “Feels so good, daddy. Please don’t stop! Ah! Feels...good!”

Greg smiled and kept stroking the gorgeous cock while he watched the man’s increasingly frantic movements.

“Oh, daddy...can you…”

“What, baby? Tell daddy what you want.”

“I...I want…”

“Yes? Tell me. Tell me, baby boy, come on.” He squeezed the other man’s cock at the base and held William down on his lap, with his own cock pressing into the hot opening.

“Ah! I want for daddy to take me on my knees! Hard! Please daddy, will you? Please, please!” It almost sounded like sobbing, and it was the sexiest thing Greg had ever heard.

“Sure, baby. Up, then.”

Will scrambled off his lap and almost threw himself onto the bed before getting up on all fours and presenting his glorious arse. Good god, that view! When Greg got up to turn and really look, he had to pinch the base of his cock so he wouldn’t come on the spot. The view was positively obscene.  Will had his head down, hanging between his arms. His back was bent  so that everything was on display nicely; his drawn-up balls and the twitching, swollen cock, and most of all, his quivering, open, glistening hole. The boy’s whole body frame was shaking slightly.

“Daddy!” he keened, impatient, and Greg chuckled while he climbed up on the bed and lined up his cock.

“Shh, baby, daddy’s here. Do you still want it?”

“Yes! Oh, god, yes, daddy, please fuck me!”

Greg moaned, and shoved inside the young man’s body again. Will keened, and pressed his hips to Greg’s, making him sink in deeper.

“Please, please daddy!” It _was_ sobbing now, desperate, wanton sobbing, and Greg couldn’t hold back.

He pulled out, almost all the way, and slammed back in, again, and again, fucking the boy in earnest and digging his nails into the soft flesh of his arse cheeks. He let his right hand wander along the man’s spine, upwards.

“Can I pull your hair, my pretty boy?”

By means of an answer, Will laid his head back, offering it, and Greg laced his fingers into the unruly curls. He could feel the heat, the sweat, and it gave him goosebumps. He didn’t pull, though, and stopped thrusting.

“I want to hear your answer from your mouth, baby. Can I pull your hair?”

“Yes, daddy! Please do!” the young man moaned, and Greg pulled, weakly at first, then harder and harder, until, with a cry, Will began to lift his shoulders and torso, and at last he was supporting his weight merely on his knuckles. He was whining and moaning quietly, but kept perfectly still. Greg moved his hips experimentally, and the half-suspended boy let out a deep moan, shivering.

“I haven’t forgotten everything, you know,” Greg whispered, more to himself than William, who started panting as Greg kept moving his hips against _that_ spot inside his partner.

“More! Please!” Will moaned, and his voice wasn’t boyish anymore, but deep and resonant. “Please!”

“Grab the headboard,” Greg instructed, and Will shuffled a little until he could obey, holding himself up now, so that Greg could let go and grab the young man’s hips once more. He started thrusting again. The moans that escaped Will’s sinful mouth now were deep and breathless, until at some point, the tone changed abruptly, and Will drew in a breath, sounding almost startled.

“I...oh, fuck! I’m...I’m going to…”

Greg’s right hand reached around Will’s hips and this time, Will didn’t struggle, but thrust into Greg’s hand with a high-pitched whine.

“It’s okay, come for me, my pretty boy. Come like that.”

The young man’s hips stuttered, moving erratically for a moment, and with a cry, Will came, and the mere sight threw Greg himself over the edge with a force he hadn’t known he was still capable of.

Both men stayed like that for a moment, panting, until Greg pulled out and let himself slump backwards onto the bed. Will, however, only took a few deep breaths and armed himself with a few tissues, cleaned up his mess, and even peeled off the used condom expertly. Greg let him, although it felt strangely humiliating. After he was done, Will disappeared into the bathroom.

Although he was thoroughly satisfied, Greg did feel a bit lonely and cold again. Will hadn’t looked at him, and his face had gone back to the slightly haughty, slightly bored mask he had had at the beginning.

Greg pinched himself in his mind. Will was a prostitute. Of course he was acting, always acting. It was no use to ponder which parts had been genuine and which a simple act to get him off. He had paid him to get him off, simple as that. But Greg just couldn’t help himself, he tended to care, and he didn’t have it in him to act like an asshole only because Will’s body was bought. He wasn’t like that. He couldn’t look down on him that way. Had the boy been different, like his fellow workers that Greg met at work from time to time, always smiling and flirting, but air-headed and shallow, it might have been different. But Greg could sense that William was somehow...well, different. The policeman didn’t doubt for one second that Will was ridiculously smart, a creature of rare perception, and judging from his demeanour and accent, definitely not from a poor background. So why was he doing this? Something tugged at Greg’s memory...those blue eyes, slightly glazed over. Drugs. Of course. Yes, it seemed William had fallen deep, indeed. And without a doubt, Greg should have arrested him, or at least watched him. He could go into that back-alley tomorrow and no doubt find him guilty of more than one offence and take him away instantly. Of course, those kind of offenders were rarely arrested at all, because there were simply too many of them. But still, Greg had maneuvered himself into a dangerous conflict of interests here. He surely wasn’t the first cop to hook up with a pro, but still…

Greg shoved those thoughts aside and turned the covers, keeping himself from rubbing the damp spot that spoke of just how much Will had actually liked it. His client refused to lie to himself; Will was in perfect control of his body, and most of it, if not everything, down to the last seconds, had probably been fake. Greg threw the cover down next to the bed to be washed at some point, and waited for Will to return so he himself could go to the bathroom. When he did come back, Will still wasn’t looking at him, and neither did he when Greg himself came back to bed. Will had his pants on again, as did his host. The boy was lying on top of the blankets, waiting more or less politely until Greg had sat down on the edge of the bed next to him.

“Are you alright?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Greg shrugged. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“Do you want me to make conversation?” Will grinned crookedly. “I’m not an escort. I’m just for sex. But if you want me to talk, I’m sure I can think of some trivia to babble about.”

Greg lay down and pulled the covers up to his chest. “You’re a piece of work, aren’t you? Why are you sitting there like that, anyway? Do you want to leave, after all?”

“No. You paid for the whole night, I’ll stay until morning, unless you want me gone.”

“Well, I don’t. I don’t feel comfortable with telling you to stay if you want to go, though.”

Will finally crawled under the covers, reasonably far away from his current employer. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, in a somewhat softer tone than his words warranted. “You pay me to be here. Those notes in my jacket give you the right to do almost anything with me until morning.”

“Universally accepted, and yet it sounds horribly wrong, doesn’t it?” Greg mused in a low voice, and Will threw him a dark look.

“I don’t think you’re in the position to say anything about how wrong it is that I sell my body for sex. You bought it,” the man said in a dangerously soft voice.

“I know. I’m just...I was trying not to be an asshole. I know I’m not doing well,” Greg added, smiling sadly. “I know that this here is all wrong. And even though I paid you, I probably couldn’t… If you told me not to touch you, and even just look like you look now, I wouldn’t touch you. It would feel like I’m raping you. The whole thing, in retrospect, almost feels like I raped you, because you didn’t really want me.”

Will shook his head. “Stop it. I’m a consenting adult.”

“I bought your consent.”

“It’s still consent. Stop worrying.”

“As I said,” Greg huffed, the high from his orgasm somehow completely gone, “I don’t like the thought of being an asshole. But I guess I am in this situation, there’s no helping it.” He turned off the lights and plunged them into darkness.

For a minute, there was only a deafening silence. Then Greg heard the rustling of sheets and felt more than he saw that Will was now lying closer to him and looking at him from where he was lying on his side.

“I meet a lot of assholes, you know,” he said in a strangely gentle voice. “Some just mean, some violent, some abusive. Despite my rules, I do get a lot of clients who hurt me, who do all the things I told you are not allowed. A lot of men choke me, or hit me afterwards, or kick me, or spit on me. Suppose punching a little gay tart in the face after a blowjob somehow re-establishes their manliness or something. In my experience, assholes are mostly people who run from their emotions and natural kindness, people who can’t deal with themselves or the world or both. They think kindness and the impulse to be good will make them weak, and they think, often because the world taught them so, that weak people go down, and hard, steely, merciless, selfish assholes get what they want and go to the top. Which is true, of course. So they think that’s their justification for being an asshole. A few people are also mean and horrible because they _can_ , because they like the feeling of having power over another living thing, that they have the power to make someone feel even more pathetic than they feel themselves. All people like having power over something or someone. What you’d call ‘good’ people may be able to control that impulse and be nice, and other people abuse it. You, too, like having power. I gave you some, and you rose to it, just a few minutes ago. You liked having me beg and be submissive to you. However, you’re not an asshole. You’re just a lonely man trying to fill his life and his bed with some warmth. You’re not violent, you’re even remarkably selfless. Violent people buy me to give them back a feeling of control, not companionship. I don’t get your type too often. Ninety percent of my clients are assholes. But from time to time I get someone like you. You all come to me damaged. As a whore, sometimes you also have to function as a kind of psychotherapist. Your type is the type who gets to take me home. All my clients are broken in some way, but there’s moral-compass-broken and there’s heartbroken. And even though you doubt it at the moment, your morals are more than intact. Infuriatingly so.”

Greg chuckled at the last, and almost heard the answering grin.

“Believe me, Lestrade, you are one of the few people who really don’t have to be ashamed for what they bought me for.”

The older man tipped onto his side, too, facing the boy while resting his head on his arm. “Thank you.” He heard Will’s curls rustle against the pillow when he nodded. “Can...can I still touch you?”  
“Lestrade,” Will said, drawing the name out to show his annoyance, and Greg smirked.

“That’s a yes, I take it. Until morning and all that.”

“Yes. Yours until morning. It’s not called ‘rentboy’ for nothing. You rented me. So if you still want to touch me, be my guest, so to speak.”

Greg chuckled and, even though he still did not feel too good about this, his loneliness won and he put out a hand to touch the young man.

“Come closer?” He phrased it as a definite question, but Will moved at once, as if he had heard it as an order...or as if he wanted it, too. Probably neither, anyway, but the young man still rolled over and into Greg’s arms, as if he had known what his client wanted. Probably had, because whoever Will was, from what Greg had seen until now, the boy simply knew everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will needs absolution by punishment, and Greg lets out his darker side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's consensual violence in this chapter, pain, crying and derogatory language. It IS all consensual, even though you could say it is a very unhealthy coping mechanism on Sherlock's side, but I promise, both are very much okay afterwards.

After that second encounter, Greg didn’t see William for over a month. Not that he didn’t seek him out again, but, as the young man told him another two weeks later, he had to change location, or rather, had a few locations on rotation, so to speak. Greg didn’t ask any questions, and he had the feeling that Will wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But as it was now November and the weather was very cold by now, the boy didn’t seem to mind another invitation to stay the night. 

Greg may not have been as clever as his rentboy, but he could certainly spot a tramp when he saw one. Will was always clean, shaven, orderly dressed and, as Greg had noticed the first time, always prepared. So he had access to clean clothes and water. But he certainly did not have a regular home. As clever as he was, he was scraping by comparatively well, but it was still obvious from how keen Will was on coming home with Greg again, that the place he usually slept in was not heated.

After they had finished (both, as Greg almost proudly thought to himself), Will curled up in Greg’s arms again, this time without being asked to.

“Will, can I ask you something?”

The boy grunted. Maybe he wasn’t one to talk much right after an orgasm, but he had been very quiet again. 

“How old are you?”

Will snorted. “If you’re unsure about my age you should have asked before you first fucked me, now, shouldn’t you?”

Greg pinched Will’s side, and the young man flinched and actually laughed.

“I can tell you’re older than eighteen. But how old, actually?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Why don’t you want to tell me? I’m curious.”

Will huffed. “Twenty-five.” 

“Hmm.”

“Too young for you, anyway, Lestrade,” the boy said jokingly. “Which is why you like it when I call you ‘daddy’,” he continued, and turned in Greg’s arms until he was facing his client. He nibbled his ear. “Yes, please, daddy, just like that, daddy,” he said in a mockingly sweet voice, but while the first time round, Greg would have been embarrassed, he now grinned and pinched Will’s arse, making the young man yelp.

“You get off on it, too, and don’t deny it.”

Will snorted. “I’m a professional. I can make you believe anything if I want.”

“Probably,” Greg conceded. “Would you tell me the truth if I asked you how much of everything I’ve seen from you until now was just show?”

Will smiled that crooked smile. “Probably not. Prostitution is always a whole lot of acting for those ninety-eight percent of us who don’t enjoy this job with all their heart. What would you want to know, anyway?”

Greg let his hand trail down Will’s back, over the round arse and up again. “You told me you don’t enjoy yourself, normally. But it seems to me, you rather do, when you’re with me. I get that much of it is acting, as you said, but...I mean, you can’t fake an erection, or coming, can you? How much of that is real? Are you thinking of something else at that moment or are you here with me?”

Will chewed on his lips for a moment, pondering his answer. “This is like asking a magician to reveal how his tricks work. If I told you everything, could you still enjoy it? The excitement would most likely be gone. My job here is to satisfy you, to know what you want and to give it to you. Your case merely includes a bit more psychological stuff than the normal client. You want to feel wanted, needed, and in charge. You want your partner to be eager and active, so I am.”

“So you don’t actually like it?” Greg assumed, trying to not feel too disillusioned.

Will rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say that. I do enjoy it, for two reasons. First, I  _ have _ to enjoy it to make it enjoyable for you. It turns you off when you see that I’m not hard, so I have to make or let myself be turned on. Now, I can, to a certain degree, make my body obey and get hard. But it is a lot easier with a giving partner such as yourself. Don’t puff up, I  _ am _ only telling the truth this time. So yes, by now, I’ve learned to let myself enjoy what you so readily give me. But you’ll understand that it’s still a job for me, so I’m not...enjoying it on a personal level, if that makes any sense to you.”

“So you enjoy what I can give but you don’t enjoy...me in particular?”

“You’re a client. Don’t make the mistake to grow attached to me, Lestrade. This is a business relationship, if you want. We’re not lovers or even friends. I like you, the way any service provider likes a particularly nice, polite client. And I know I don’t have to be as cautious with you as with a drunk ex-con, so I can let go to a certain level and enjoy it. Happy now?” he added in a mocking tone, when Greg remained silent after this explanation. “You did ask.”

“Yes, I did. It’s fine. I know how it works, normally. I just wanted to know.”

Will shifted in Greg’s arms and managed to make his client lie on his back so that he could climb on top. Once more, Greg noticed how little the boy actually weighed.

“And I told you, even though I shouldn’t have. But I have the feeling that you’re not going to want to stop seeing me.”

“You’re right, as you always are. Though it still feels weird to make another human do what I want.”

“I could refuse you altogether, but I don’t.”

“Because you need the money.”

Will scowled. “Yes.”

“To support your drug-habit.”

The boy just stared at him for a moment, but said nothing.

“What? Did you think I didn’t know? I may not be as clever as you are, but I recognize your lot when I see you. I’m a cop.”

Will was quiet for a minute longer before he spoke. “So why didn’t you arrest me? You have enough on me to even bribe me. You could probably come to me and not pay me at all and threaten me with arrest. You don’t, though.”

“No, I don’t. Because when I come to you, I’m a private person. I come to you as a client. However, should I ever have anything to do with you on official business, I will not treat you any differently, and I don’t care who you tell about my visits then. Understand?”

Instead of retreating and possibly pouting, Will smiled and leaned down to nip at Greg’s jaw. “Sir, yes, sir,” he whispered, and Greg felt his cock jump inappropriately. Of course, the boy had noticed and let out a small chuckle. “I really think you should try to go again.”

“Again?” The older man almost felt startled. He didn’t dare to even think back; it had been an awfully long time since he’d done it twice a night. He was in his forties, damn it! “I don’t think…”

“Oh Lestrade, don’t do that to yourself. Of course you can,” said the young man dismissively and rocked his hips against Greg’s. Only now did the older man become aware of the feeling of their cocks touching, and the thought made him tingle all over. He could feel the soft skin on his own, the gentle pressure, the somewhat spongy texture of the thing that was pressing against his groin. It was all strangely intimate and exciting. Still, Greg couldn’t help but harbour some doubts.

“Will, it’s not even been half an hour yet. I’m an old man, as you keep pointing out. Oh…” He stretched like a cat, it felt so good what Will was doing, and the young man obviously wouldn’t let himself be distracted. “I thought you said your job was to please me, not make me feel inadequate.”

“My job at the moment is to boost your ego and show you what you’re capable of. Because that is your weak spot since your marriage.”

“How…?!”

“Shush! Just shut up and enjoy it. I’m a hustler, remember? I’m perfectly capable of assessing sexual prowess, and you’re perfectly fine in that department.”

Greg didn’t say anything in reply. Yes, maybe it was stupid, but the fact that the ex-wife had, among other things, mocked him that he couldn’t satisfy her, had been hard for him. But their relationship had suffered, and she’d been more or less chewing him out for years before they really broke up, and that, of course, had not been a great base for good sex. His ego, his self-confidence was definitely damaged, though, at least in that department. Which was, of course, why he loved the fact that Will, who normally hated letting his clients touch him, enjoyed himself here. And that, of course, was exactly why Will was grinding his hips against him now: because he knew that if he could give his client a bit of confidence back, he’d keep coming back to him. And pay him well for his services.

Greg put his hands on Will’s head and laced his fingers into his ebony curls. The boy was by now mouthing along Greg’s stomach, down to his groin. His skillful fingers were already around his client’s more-or-less limp cock, but he could feel it stirring slowly. And how could it not, with that magnificent creature lying half across his body, gloriously naked, rolling on a condom in a flash and sucking his client’s cock into that sinful mouth. Greg moaned at the feeling. He urged the boy’s head closer by his hair, and as he always did, Will moaned back at the touch and the pulling feeling. It made Greg shiver. He felt his length fill out slowly under the prostitute’s ministrations.

“Fuck, you’re perfect! Harder, suck it harder! Ah, yes, you’re so good...my perfect little…” He moaned again.

Will stopped for a second to pull off and look up at his client. “Say it. I know you want to say it. Don’t hold it back for my sake. Call me what I am. Say it!”

But Greg didn’t say it, not yet, he just pulled Will’s mouth back onto his cock, kept stroking Will’s curls while the young man sucked him until Greg’s head was swimming and his cock stood at full attention again.

“Come here,” the police officer instructed, and Will came crawling up Greg’s body like a cat. The older man grabbed the lube and slicked up his cock and fingers. “Come here, my pretty boy, come here,” he crooned and pulled the boy’s hips closer, until Will was kneeling over Greg’s chest. He stroked the quivering, hot entrance while he looked up to Will, questioning, asking for permission, even though he had bought that privilege.

“Yes,” Will breathed. “Fuck me with your fingers, daddy.”

The young man moaned when his client’s fingers breached him, and he rocked his hips to get more friction. Greg hadn’t actually thought about this much, he had just felt like doing it. Will allowed such intimacies, but he never suggested them. He seemed to like them, though, very much, if Greg could believe the man’s reactions. He felt Will’s cock touch his chest from time to time. It was there, right there, half hard…

“Oh! OH! Fuck! Lestrade, no!”

Greg felt the pressure of Will’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him away, and let go with an obscene, wet sound.

“What is it?” he asked, trying not to sound too annoyed.

“I...you don’t have to do that…”

“What if I want to?”

“You...then...then at least use a condom, will you?”

Greg’s lips twitched; the boy’s face was red as a brick. “Why? Can’t stand the skin contact?”

Will pushed Greg’s hand away from his lower body and almost snarled at him. “I’m a fucking whore, Lestrade! What do you think how many clients get to fuck me in a single week? What if...what if I give you something? Who tells you that I’m clean? You can’t just do that!”

“Jesus, Will, calm down, please! I won’t do it again if you don’t like it. Why are you so afraid though?” Greg sat up a bit straighter, but still kept his hands on Will’s hips. Somehow, the boy looked very lost at that moment, and far too young to be a street-worker. He had folded in on himself and was sitting on Greg’s hips now.

“I’m...I’m sorry I yelled at you. I...I’m always afraid, okay? I do get tested every few weeks and I never do it without condoms, but...the fear is still there. There’s nothing wrong yet, but...you know.”

Greg couldn’t say anything to that, at least none of the comforting, empty words that swam through his head. He just stroked Will’s back with one hand. “It’s alright, Will. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Don’t panic. I just wanted to make you feel good.”

Unexpectedly, Will threw himself down next to Greg. “I’m a prostitute. I don’t have to feel good. You’re supposed to feel good, it’s not important how I feel.”

The older man scooted down and leaned over Will’s face and upper body. “That sounds like something a very horrible pimp told you until you believed it. It might be like that with your clients on the streets, but when you’re here with me, it’s important how you feel, it matters, to me.”

Will huffed. “Oh, Lestrade, don’t…”

“No, shut your mouth.”

Will’s mouth closed with an almost comical snapping sound.

“It matters to me. Not because I’m in any way emotionally attached to you, but because I can’t treat you like you’re...not important. I’d like to believe I’m not like that. You’re just as human as anyone. You matter. Even though you’re almost as low as anyone can be while you’re working, when you wake up in the morning, you’re still a sentient being. And I don’t care that this is work for you, if I can make you feel good, or even just better, I bloody well will.”

In the half-dark of the bedroom, Greg saw Will’s face light up with a smile for a tiny moment, and heard the boy snort softly.

“You’re a fucking romantic, Lestrade, trying to fix me. Come here, then, and kiss me, if it helps your troubled conscience. And then, I’d still like that fuck, if you don’t mind, you’re always so wonderfully lenient towards me.”

Greg let Will kiss him but when Will tried to rub his body against him, he paused and pulled away a bit.

“Will, you don’t have to do this, I know you want to ‘do your duty’ or whatever the hell you want to call it, but…”

“Lestrade, shut up and fuck me. You’ll just have to believe me that I really want it, because I really do. So put that thing up my arse right bloody now or so help me…”

Greg clapped a hand over Will’s mouth. “Fine, I’ll believe you, you little diva.”

Will let his body melt into Greg’s. He pulled the older man closer and kissed him deeply while he let his body rock against his client’s like a wave. By now, enough time had passed that Greg didn’t have any problems with getting hard again, and he noticed happily that this time, neither did Will. He readjusted the condom, slathered his cock in lube and lay down between Will’s spread thighs. It felt strangely intimate, the way Will looked at him from beneath him, expectant and curious, as if he himself were a virgin, waiting for an experienced man like Greg to break him in. Will moaned when his client penetrated him, and stretched his body, and bracketed Greg’s hips with his thighs while the older man started to thrust into him.

“Harder,” Will growled, and Greg could feel the boy’s muscles twitch around his cock. “Fuck me harder! Good god, stop being so gentle! Hurt me!”

Greg’s thoughts were hazy with lust. It was wrong, to hurt Will, but he said it in a tone of voice that made the thought oh so enticing. He was sure that Will wasn’t shamming; he had his hand around his own cock, and it was  _ leaking _ and looked painfully hard. Will  _ was _ getting off on this. And on the thought of being treated violently. Greg decided to test the waters. He rammed the young man and then pinned him down with his hands on his shoulders.   
“Are you telling me what to do, you little whore?”

The boy keened and he tried to fight the older man off, but his struggling felt staged. Maybe Greg was getting the hang of Will’s acting.

“No, daddy. I’ve been bad, I’ve been very bad.”

“I know, boy, you’ve been doing all sorts of naughty things to strangers. Did you enjoy it?”

“No, daddy. I only enjoy it with you. But I want to be punished for what I do. Please, will you punish me, daddy?”

Greg chuckled. “So my little whore wants to be punished for all the filthy things he does all night?”

“Yes,” Will said, a little too earnestly for just a game in bed, and Greg suspected that he really did mean it, for whatever reason.

“How do you want daddy to punish you, baby?”

Will rocked against the body that was still pinning him down. “Just hurt me, daddy. Slap me, grab me hard, pull my hair, bite me, whatever you want. Just make me hurt.”

The words should have filled Greg with horror, or at least caution, but instead they turned him on. 

He pulled out for a moment and turned the boy around so he was lying on his stomach. Grabbing Will’s hair with one hand, pulling him up, and supporting his hips with the other, Greg raised the young man into a kneeling position. He ripped his head back by the hair and leaned over Will’s back to whisper into his ear.

“You’ll tell me when it’s too much, at once, do you understand me?”

“Yes,” Will panted. “I have a safeword, if you want me to use it.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s ‘hemlock’.”

“Understood. Are you sure you want this?”

“Very much, daddy. Do punish me, please. Don’t be too gentle. I’ve been very bad and I deserve to be punished.”

“Jesus…”

Greg rammed back into Will’s body and at the same time janked his hair, and the boy shouted with pain, but stayed in place. His client set up a punishing rhythm, hard and fast, hammering against the boy’s most sensitive spot until he was wailing underneath him. Then he grabbed Will’s neck in a vice-like grip and pressed the man’s head down with all his remaining strength.

“Filthy little tart, you’re bringing out the worst in me. Look at you. Bending for me like a good whore. Aren’t you, my little one?”

“Yes, daddy,” Will panted, with a little difficulty due to his position. His head was pressed sideways into the pillows by now. It was hard to hold him like that, but the police officer managed. If Yard training had shown him one thing, it was a safe grip. Greg could feel the lithe body tremble. He continued his hard thrusts while keeping the boy’s head down with one hand.

“You should be ashamed of what you make me do, really. Only a filthy slut such as you could do that. Say you’re sorry!”

“No!”

“Say it!”

“No, daddy!”

Greg growled and pulled out swiftly, but kept rubbing his cock into Will’s cleft, against his twitching hole, and yet he was the only one who got any real stimulation from that. The boy beneath him wailed.

“No! Don’t pull out! Daddy!” He said the last one like a stroppy child.

“Say you’re sorry and maybe I’ll put it back in.”

“No!”

Following a sudden inspiration, Greg slapped Will’s arse with his flat hand, hard. Will jolted forward, but Greg held him by his hair.

“You’re not sorry, then? Not sorry for what kind of filthy stuff you do, you little bitch?”

“No,” Will repeated stubbornly.

“I should make you feel sorry for all your lewdness, you little obscene wanton. I bet you’d feel sorry after a proper thrashing. I should let you feel my belt anyway for infecting me with all your depravity.”

Will gasped. “Daddy…” The boy’s body frame shivered.

Greg hesitated, and let go of Will’s hair, but turned his face towards him by his jaw. Will’s eyes were wide and full of a dangerous craving.

“Do you want that, honey?”

Will nodded. “Punish me, daddy.”

“So you want me to punish you, but you won’t say sorry?”

The boy nodded, and to Greg’s surprise left his place beneath his client to drape himself over the side of the bed, kneeling on the floor, not even his arse but his back exposed, his hands curiously lying side by side, arms outstretched on the bed like he was offering them up to be bound...like he was offering himself up, Greg thought. This was not a game for Greg’s sake, he realised, Will was genuinely asking this of him. When Greg got up to retrieve his belt, he saw that the man was still achingly hard. He should have thought about this first, but instead he folded the belt in two, feeling the rough, supple leather between his fingers and thinking how he had never anticipated that he’d whip a rentboy with it when he’d bought it on a family holiday. 

‘How times change, huh, Susan?’ he thought grimly, and, his hand driven by that thought of his ex-wife, he lashed Will across the back.

The boy yelped, but held his position. He kept whining as the next few lashes struck him, but he never said anything until Greg had almost reached twenty.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” It was just a whisper, and Greg immediately stopped whipping the younger man. It was obvious from Will’s voice that he was crying silently. Greg knelt beside the boy. He wasn’t even sobbing, the tears seemed to just spill over.

“Are you okay? You didn’t say anything.”

“I’m okay, daddy,” Will said and wiped at his cheeks. 

Greg wasn’t convinced, but the younger man took Greg’s hand for a second and whispered: “I really am. I needed that.” Then, a bit louder and obviously back in the game, he said: “I’m sorry I did so many bad things. Will daddy fuck me now? Please? Just hard and fast, and make me come, daddy?”

Greg only nodded, strangely touched, and Will got up to lie down on the bed again, on his back that was full of welts, and had to sting horribly. The boy rolled on a condom to prevent making a mess, and pulled Greg closer until he was sheathed inside the young, pliant body again.

“Hard and fast,” Will whispered longingly, and began to move his hips. 

Only now did Greg realise he was practically bursting. He snapped his hips against the boy’s beneath him, and Will keened and began to stroke his cock in time with Greg’s thrusts. Soon enough, Greg could feel the boy’s muscles clench around him and heard his breath become ragged.

“I’m coming, daddy, I’m coming, I’m coming, oh FUCK!”

At the sight of the writhing young man, Greg let go, too, and came hard, with a strangled cry. He rolled off Will’s body and they both lay there, panting.

Will sighed while he still tried to get his breathing under control, and got rid of the condom he had used. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Greg said, and wiped his face with one hand after he, too, had thrown away his condom and cleaned himself a bit with a tissue. “What the hell was that?”

“What do you mean?” asked the boy, and got up, wincing, just to stoop and pick up Greg’s jeans. He got the pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the back pocket without asking, collected an ashtray from the window sill, threw himself down on the bed again and had taken one of the cigarettes between his lips and lit up before Greg could say anything.

Greg huffed and lit up, too. “That. I thought you had to deal with enough violence from clients. But you actually asked for this. And don’t tell me it was for my sake, because I didn’t start this. So what was that?”

Will blew some smoke towards the ceiling. “Overdue, is what that was. Think of it as absolution. I can’t usually trust anyone to do it, but as I said, you’re so lenient and selfless when it comes to sex, and you like such games, too. It was worth a try. You did great.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess. But why? Why did you want this?”

Will took another drag from his cigarette. “I told you. Absolution. Don’t ask me questions about that.”

Greg stared at Will for a moment, and the boy tried to ignore it. “You want to be punished for being a prostitute, don’t you? You feel better when you have the feeling that you pay for doing what you think of as a bad thing.”

“I said, don’t ask questions.”

“You cried.”

“I’m not talking about this.”

“You feel bad about how you earn your money and it’s a relief for you if you have the feeling that it has consequences. You feel you deserve being violated by a client, don’t you? And you enjoy being called filthy names because you think you deserve that, too.”

“Lestrade, that’s enough. My unhealthy coping mechanisms are my business. We both enjoyed ourselves, which is what you want to gain from these encounters, normally. Now get off my back, unless you want any other services from me, which I doubt.”

“I want to look at your back, for one. And treat it.”

Will made a dismissive sound. “I’m fine.”

“Well, your back is not. I’ve done some damage there, and I’ll help you heal it. This is not open for discussion,” he said firmly, and for a moment, an echo of Will’s earlier submission flickered in his blue eyes.

“Alright,” he said after a minute, and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray between them. “Bathroom?”

Greg nodded, and they got up together.

To see Will’s naked body in the stark light of the bathroom lamp was somewhat sobering. The boy was much too thin and too pale, which made the angry red welts on his back stand out even more. Greg felt sorry that he’d done this, but on the other hand, Will had asked for it, and he seemed comparatively happy when he examined his own marred skin in the mirror like it was a work of art.

“Let me shower before you touch that,” the younger man asked, and had vanished behind the curtain before Greg could utter one word of protest. Will was very quick about it, he merely let the water run long enough to rinse the sweat and lube off his body and was back on the bathmat next to Greg, toweling himself dry carefully, in under two minutes.

“Practice makes perfect, huh? Come here, let me…”

Will gave the towel to Greg, who dried off the thin back carefully, then looked at it closer to check if the skin was broken. “It’s just very red and swollen. But there are no cuts.” He got a small bottle of baby oil from his bathroom cupboard and rubbed it gently into Will’s skin, who sighed with relief.

“Why do you have baby oil, anyway?”

“It’s useful for many different things,” Greg said vaguely, and kept massaging Will’s skin until the oil was absorbed. It would help keep the swelling at bay and make it heal better.

“Thank you,” Will said, looking for all the world like he was glowing now. 

Greg made a mental note that the boy liked both physical punishment and name-calling, but also personal attention and aftercare, even though Will would have denied the latter two.

“Come, let’s go to bed. We can sleep in tomorrow. Stay as long as you like.”

“You know that you only pay me for the night, right?  Last time we had to hurry because you had to go to work, but having a lie-in won’t be of any use to you; as soon as it’s morning, our little business is over. You don’t get to fuck me over breakfast.”

Greg snorted as they pulled the blankets over themselves and Will scooted closer to let Greg fold his arms around the thin frame, as he liked it.

“I don’t care about that. You can still sleep in and stay, that has nothing to do with the sex.”

Will snorted and shuffled into a more comfortable position. “Oh Lestrade, everything has to do with sex.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg learns who Will really is when the young man gets into trouble. Being a good man, Greg helps him out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NO smut in this chapter, just a bit of drama, Sherlock's famous insults, Anderson showing his snout, and Greg being a precious human being. This is kind of a preparation for the next chapter, where there will be smut again. Seems I can't just jump into sex scenes at the moment.

Greg would have liked for their encounters to continue like that, and for a few times, they did. It was almost a kind of soothing routine; Greg came round to pick up Will in the side street at least once a week and the boy came along willingly and let Greg do whatever he so desired. Will didn’t ask Greg to punish him again, but he did stick to the game and kept calling Greg ‘daddy’, knowing full well that it could drive the older man wild. Will tried to also keep his haughty, bored and sarcastic mask, but by now, Greg also knew full well how to drive the younger man wild. Whether Will faked his interest at the beginning of each of their evenings together or not, he always did come in the end, and before his mask was back in place, Greg always glimpsed the face of a truly satisfied creature, and that was enough for him.

Unfortunately, though, some time in December, Greg was in for a nasty surprise.

They hadn’t seen each other about a week, but when Greg arrived at a fresh crime scene, he thought his heart would stop. Another officer had none other than William in handcuffs, and the young man was rocking back and forth where he was sitting on a stanchion. He looked very troubled. Greg could only hope that he wasn’t high, but one closer look told him that he was. Fuck.

“And what’s he doing here?” he asked his colleague, Lewis. At the sound of Greg’s voice, Will looked up, startled, and Greg thought he saw the boy’s lips tremble. He had obviously been oblivious to Greg’s presence. But probably, the trembling came from something else; it had obviously rained heavily in this part of the city, and Will was as sopping wet as the street itself.

“Suspect. He was hiding in a side street…”

“I wasn’t hiding, I was sleeping! And I couldn’t be a suspect if you’d really use your brains! I am…”

“Shut your mouth!”

“Oi!” Greg said, before he could think it through. “Let him defend himself.”

Lewis looked at him with a mix of surprise and contempt, but he said nothing. Greg nodded for Will to continue.

“I’m not defending myself, I’m trying to tell you that you’re stupid to think that I killed him. The body is heavy and stiff and dry. Even if I could lift him, it was raining here at the time he must have died, he’s dry, though, and I’m thoroughly wet as you can tell, at least I hope you can see that much. The wound…”

“Okay, okay, you can tell that to a colleague at the Yard,” Lewis interrupted again. “You’re high anyway, so even if you wouldn’t be a suspect, we’d collect you.”

“I’ll take him. For questioning, although I’m sure he knows nothing.”

“I know a lot more than you lot, obviously! He…”

Now it was Greg’s turn to say: “Shut up! Get up and come with me.”

Will’s mouth snapped shut, and after a moment of serious scowling, he got up and let Greg lead him to his police car. Only when they were both inside did Greg talk again, but he didn’t start the car yet.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you, I was sleeping!”

“Sleeping rough, huh? And shooting up, obviously.”

“Don’t pretend that you care, or that you didn’t know.”

Greg could see Will curl up in the seat in the back, teeth chattering so loudly that Greg could hear it in the front.

“Do you have any dry clothes at hand? Where you slept, for example?”

“I’m fine,” Will hissed. “I’m used to it.” He was almost curled into a ball now.

“I didn’t ask about that.”

“F-fuck you,” the boy whispered. By now, he was trembling. It was heart-breaking to see.

“William, tell me if you have any dry clothes back in that alley right this instant!” Greg said in his best police-officer voice.

“Y-yes, d-damn it! There’s a b-blue sports bag with a p-plastic bag in it, n-next to the b-bins.”

“There, wasn’t that easy?” Greg got out of the car and locked it, then he strode over to the alley where his colleagues had found Will. He found the bag and walked back to his car, ignoring the stares of his colleagues. Before he could get in, though, he was held up by a young, overeager forensics assistant.

“What’s that bag? You can’t move evidence from the Crime scene.”

“It’s not evidence, Anderson. Let me through.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s just his things.”

“Even worse that you’re taking those away.” Anderson glanced towards the car. Will was staring back darkly at the man in his blue forensics suit.

Greg opened the bag, hoping that Will wouldn’t bring him trouble, but there was nothing but clean clothes and a wallet inside that was obviously Will’s, since it was empty except for a few coins and an ID.

“See? Nothing to find here. I’m pretty sure you’ll also find nothing on the body that points to him. That man wasn’t even murdered here. He’s just unlucky. Now go back to your work instead of trying to pin this to that guy.”

With that, Greg turned around and got a blanket from his trunk, then he opened the back door and shoved the bag and the blanket onto Will’s lap. He opened the handcuffs, too, with a look that told Will that there’d be hell to pay if he was going to be difficult. When Greg got back in, Will was already shedding his dripping clothes and wrapped himself in the blanket. Greg started the car, turned up the heating and took the very long route to the Yard to give the boy time to warm up.

“Thank you,” Will said after a while.

Greg grunted. “If you happen to have anything at all to do with this murder, I will personally throw you into a cell.”

“I don’t have anything to do with it, don’t be stupid.”

“Yes, about that, stop that. It’s not wise to tell the police they’re stupid when you’re a murder suspect.”

Will said nothing, even though Greg had the feeling that he merely thought it beneath him to answer. When it came to that, Will could be a horrible diva.

At the Yard, Greg went through all the paperwork. He probably had enough problems on his hands. At least he had told his direct superior what he was doing, and he’d been okay with it. So maybe just a minor shitstorm.

Will had put on all clothes that he had stored in the bag, but he was still shivering violently. Greg brought the boy into his office and sent a trainee away for tea. When she had brought it and Will was looking as if he’d like to have wrapped himself around the cup instead of just his fingers, Greg sat down and examined Will’s ID for the first time. He snorted.

“William Sherlock Scott Holmes. That’s quite a mouthful. I’m actually surprised that you’ve given me your real name and age.”

“Yes, that was stupid of me.”

“I don’t think so. It’s never wise to lie to a police officer.”

“You weren’t, though, when you came to me. You were a _private person_. And anyway, would you really reprimand a prostitute for giving you a fake name?”

“Probably not.”

“Why did you do that for me?” Will asked suddenly. “You said you wouldn’t treat me any differently if we ever met like this.”

“Yes, that was stupid of me,” Greg echoed Will’s words from a moment ago. “I just don’t think you did it, and I’m sure that evidence will turn up that speaks in your favour. But I suppose at least you’ll have somewhere to stay tonight, even though it’s just a cell.”

“What? No!” Will shouted, startling Greg more than he cared to admit. The boy’s eyes were full of fear all of a sudden. Greg had never seen him like that. He knew that Will was an excellent actor, but he could see the man’s pupils widen and the blood drain from his face; this was real fear. Too much for what he’d just been told, actually.

“What?”

“No, don’t put me in a cell! Please! I’ll do anything! I didn’t do it, it wasn’t me, don’t put me in a cell, Lestrade, please!”

“William, that’s not for me to…”

“Don’t let them do that, please! You can tell them not to, can’t you? There’s no evidence that it was me!”

“Will, even if there’s none, you are high as a kite, the least they’ll do is put you in a drunk tank…”

“NO!” Will shrieked, and the panic in the man’s voice was more than evident. “Please, can’t you do anything? They just have to let me go, I won’t be any trouble! I just want to go!”

“Will, it’s the middle of December and it’s pouring, you’ve just been in this weather outside, you can’t possibly want to go…”

“Please, Lestrade, I beg you. Don’t put me in a cell. I _beg_ you.” He sounded desperate.

Greg frowned. “What is it with you and cells?”

“I’m...claustrophobic.”

Greg could tell it was a lie, but he could also tell it wasn’t far from the truth.

“Do you have anywhere else to go? Anyone we can call? Family?” he huffed.

Will flinched violently. “No.”

Greg cocked his head to the side. “I don’t think you’re being honest with me.”

“I don’t want anyone to know I was here.”

“Are you hiding from someone? From your own family?”

Will squirmed. “Just let me go,” he whined.

Greg lifted one eyebrow at the boy. “Who are you running from? Why do you want to get away so badly? It’s like you think they already know you’re here. Nobody but anyone in…” His mouth snapped shut for a moment. Then he opened it again and asked: “You’re not by any chance the brother of Mycroft Holmes, are you?”

Will didn’t answer, but the flicker of horror in the man’s eyes told Greg everything.

“Oh _dear_ god.”

“Let me go.”

“Jesus…”

“Neither of those are going to be helpful now,” Will snarled.

“You’re Mycroft Holmes’ brother?”

“What if I am?” the young man said defiantly.

“Well...he’s a high-ranking asshole in the British government. If I arrest his little brother...I could be in trouble. Even worse, even if I arrest you for drugs and not murder, it’s still drugs that you bought with the money I paid you.” Only after a moment, Greg realised that it was true and that he’d never even thought about it. Of course, Will used the money Greg paid him for sex to buy drugs. It was partly his fault that Will was high now.

“I can assure you, he’d promote you if you bring him my head on a silver platter. He’s been trying to find me for months. I don’t want him to find me!” Will said insistently.

“Why not?” Greg asked, confused.

“He wants to put me into rehab, he wants to exercise his control over me. He doesn’t control me! I don’t want to see him!”

“But wouldn’t rehab be for your own good…?”

Will’s fist hit the table, making Greg jump a bit. “He says he does everything for my ‘own good’. But he does it for himself. He’s ashamed of me. Of course, in his position, he doesn’t want his little brother to be a drug addict, a rough sleeper and a tart, now, does he? Not good for the image. He wants to ‘tidy me up’. He’d lock me in his cellar if he could keep me from bringing shame on him that way. He probably already knows that I’m here. So before he comes barging in here: Let. Me. Go.”

Greg wiped a hand across his face. “I can’t just let you go. Not yet. I need to know more about the case. If I let you out before they can prove it wasn’t you, we’ll both get in trouble.”

Will raked his fingers through his hair and pulled, obviously frustrated. “You lot are so useless! The wound is a clean cut and on his right side of the neck. Not only is he dry, which I’m obviously not, but I’m right-handed! And high as a kite, as you pointed out, or was, at the time of the murder! I couldn’t have stabbed him with that much force with my left hand! And it wouldn’t have been such a clean wound anyway, because my hands are shaking when I’m high! And how do you think I would have carried him, _me_? Where was I supposed to have killed him? If I’d know a warm, dry place, I’d be there! Plus, there’s no weapon with my fingerprints on them, because the weapon isn’t there and I DIDN’T DO IT! Your colleagues found me asleep! Would I sleep metres away from the man I killed? Isn’t that enough to say I’m not guilty or am I merely a convenient suspect? Let’s take the drug addict, shall we? He’s no good outside of prison, anyway! I’m tired of this!”

“Will, calm down!” Unconsciously, Greg got up and walked around the desk to...well, what was he supposed to do, anyway? He had put out a hand as if to touch Will’s shoulder. But should he? He had to treat Will like he would anyone else. But what the boy had said made perfect sense. He lowered his hand on Will’s shoulder. The young man looked up.

“Please, Lestrade, believe me.”

Greg believed him. Not only because he wanted to, he told himself. No, he simply had the right arguments. Which was astonishing, but then again, Greg had known for a while that Will was a smart guy. He just hadn’t known how smart.

“Wait here.”

Greg went outside to phone his superior. After a short but heated discussion, he could convince him that Will wasn’t their man. To Greg’s relief, his boss didn’t say anything about the drugs or keeping him for the night.

“Alright,” he said, stepping back into the room. “You’re not a suspect anymore. But you’re a witness. You need to come in tomorrow for questioning. By my boss. Sorry, but I can’t help you there. You can go.”

Will stood up shakily and grabbed his bag full of his wet clothes. His hair still wasn’t dry. He looked out the window into the darkness. Temperatures these last few nights had been below freezing point. Suddenly, Greg was gripped by fear that Will would be among the people who froze to death on the streets every winter. He was too smart for that...probably. Sometimes that wasn’t enough on the streets, though.

“I’ll take you downstairs.”

Will nodded and followed the officer, trailing half behind him and looking for all the world like a whipped dog, trying to ignore the stares he got. He was probably completely exhausted from everything that had happened in the last few hours, the drugs, then coming down from his high to be woken by a police officer who arrested him on a murder charge, the hypothermia with his dripping wet clothes, and the panic that his brother would find him.

Greg knew Mycroft Holmes. Officially, he was head of the Ministry of Transport, but Greg knew that the man had more threads running together in his hands than almost anyone else in this country. He’d met him and disliked him instantly; he was two-faced, stuck-up and too brilliant for his own good. On one or two occasions, Greg had had to do Holmes’ bidding when he didn’t like it at all. He almost felt a kind of childish glee at the thought that the posh arsehole would be livid if he knew that Greg had fucked his younger brother...and paid for it, too. In any case, Greg decided, he had had to obey Holmes a few times, but he wouldn’t send Will back to him if he could help it. It was Will’s right to avoid his brother’s ‘care’ if he so chose. Greg even suspected that Will’s remark with Mycroft locking him up in the cellar had to do with the young man’s fear of prison cells, or locked doors at a client’s flat, as a matter of fact.

At the main door, Greg stopped and, checking with a quick look that there was nobody around, grabbed Will’s arm.

“Go to my place. I’m fairly certain you know how to pick a lock, if not, wait in the hallway until I come home. I’ve got a few more hours to go through, but I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

Will blinked as if he didn’t understand. “Why are you helping me?”

“Because I’m stupid, that’s why. You’re all run down. You need a warm place to stay and something to eat and probably a bath.”

“Lestrade…” Will stepped closer. “I’m just a hooker you meet every few weeks for sex. What happens to me is not your business. You don’t have to do this. In fact, you shouldn’t do…”

“Just shut your mouth and go. I expect you to wait for me when I come home. No discussion.” He couldn’t let him go like that, he’d feel like the most horrible person in the world. And he wanted to help Will. For some reason, he felt responsible for the kid. Maybe it was a bad conscience because he was a client, and hated being a client. Maybe it was the many little things about Will that spoke of horrible neglect and a very broken soul behind a perfect mask, a mask that had slipped every now and then when they were together, a mask that had shattered for a short time when Will had been sobbing into the sheets after a punishment he had pleaded to get and said ‘I’m sorry, daddy’ afterwards. If Greg couldn’t fix his own sorry life, maybe he could at least make Will’s a bit better for a short time.

Will was still looking at him, but then he seemed to make a decision. He nodded, and turned around without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg is just an all-round good person, but you already knew that. Sherlock is in trouble and Greg does what he can to help, it's that simple.
> 
> Yes, smut is back. Later in the chapter. Because Greg is a good person!

Greg really did find Will on his doorstep a few hours later, wrapped around his bag, teeth chattering again and eyes closed. He still marvelled at how young the man always looked when he was asleep, but he shook him awake all the same. The boy looked startled for a second, but seemed to calm down when he saw Greg’s face. He was probably used to being woken roughly, just to be told to go away.

The police officer opened the door and pulled Will inside and up to his flat.

“I’m sorry it took me so long. Come. I’ll order us some food, you’ll have tea and a bath afterwards.”

Will nodded and set the bag down next to the door. His hands were shaking, just like the rest of him. Also, he did smell a bit today. Obviously it was not a night where he had planned to go and work.

The young man turned and managed two steps in the direction of the bathroom before he broke down and stumbled over his own feet.

Greg was beside him in an instant. “Jesus, Will! Tea and blankets first, you can’t go into the tub straightaway.” 

“S-Sorry,” the boy whispered. “‘S all a bit too much today. Let me sit for a moment.”

“No, I’m sorry. I know you’re cold.” Greg asked, and gave Will a bit of time to breathe.

“Th-that too. I’m also hungry.”

“When was the last time you ate something?”

“Uh...y-yesterday? Or the day before.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you’re much too skinny,” Greg remarked and helped the young man stand again. The sooner he could get him warm and fed, the better. “I’ll order something in a minute.”

“Y-You’ve never complained about my body if I remember correctly. And I want to be warm first.”

Will actually sounded pouty, and Greg chuckled.

“Alright. Don’t worry, you little diva, I still think you’re beautiful, but you really should eat more.”

“E-Easy for you to say. When I don’t have the money, I can’t eat, can I?”

Greg wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders and they stumbled a few meters towards the living-room. “Well, I could be wrong, but mostly, drugs cost more than food. Maybe you should cut back on those.”

Will huffed. “Easy for you to say,” he whispered again.

After a few more steps, Greg set his visitor down on the couch and went to get a blanket.

“Take off your clothes. You’ve been out in the cold twice and once in the rain, even that second set must be damp. I’ll make some tea as soon as you’re wrapped up.”

In another situation, it would have been funny how readily Will followed Greg’s instructions. When the boy was curled up inside the blanket, Greg went to make tea. He pushed the mug into Will’s hands and sat down next to him.

“I know it sounds pushy, but with my body heat, it would go faster.” 

Will looked up at him for a moment and nodded. Thankful that the boy had obviously grasped that Greg’s offer had not been a suggestive one, the older man scooted closer and arranged the blanket around the two of them. Pressed against Greg’s side, Will slowly sipped his tea. To Greg’s great relief, it was very easy to ignore the other man’s nakedness. This was still a serious situation, the boy wasn’t okay and needed his help. That was all Greg cared about right now.

“A bit better?”

The young man nodded. “Thanks. It’s not the first time I’ve been so cold, you know, you get used to it on the streets. It’s still nice to be able to recover from it like this.” He took another sip of his tea and let his cheek rest on Greg’s chest.

“I was able to help, so I did.”

“I know, that’s what you do.”

They sat in silence for some time, and Greg was happy to notice that Will had stopped shivering and his body was definitely warmer.

“Can I get into that bathtub now?” the boy asked in a staged whiny voice, and Greg chuckled.

“Alright. Come on.”

The two men got up and the younger man wrapped the blanket around himself tightly. He was still a little unstable, so Greg helped him into the bathroom, where he deposited the young man on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Don’t fall off,” he instructed.

“Trying.” 

The young man was swaying slightly, but held on bravely while Greg filled the tub with warm water and a rest of bath essence that he found in the shelf above the tub. 

“How do you feel?”

“Better. Still, can’t wait.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

It was like waiting for water to boil. Finally, Greg turned off the taps and laid out a towel for his guest.

“Will you stay with me?” Will snapped his mouth shut audibly, as if he hadn’t meant to actually say that out loud. “Sorry. You don’t have to. You’ve done enough as it is.”

Will looked somehow sheepish, something Greg hadn’t seen yet, and it was horribly endearing. The older man smiled and held out a hand. “Give me the blanket? I’ll hang up your clothes, too. Then I’ll come back.”

Will managed a smile. “Always so eager to get me naked as soon as the door is closed.”

“Well, you are naked already and I should inform you that you’re absolutely not taking a bath while you’re still wearing that blanket.” Greg smiled back and Will huffed a little laugh as he handed over the blanket as asked. Then he just stood there for a moment, arms around his own shoulders, shivering a bit. Greg made himself pointedly look anywhere but at Will’s body. He wouldn’t take advantage. No, he wouldn’t! Now that the worst seemed over, it was getting harder to not let his mind wander, though.

Finally, Will lowered himself into the tub and vanished in the water almost completely, trying to fold all of his long limbs into the warm bath. He moaned as if he’d never felt anything better, and Greg turned away from the sight of Will. He had that look on his face, a look he normally only had when he was coming.

“Can you even remember your last bath?” Greg asked to distract himself from the way Will’s hand reached down and seemingly cupped his cock protectively. It seemed to be an unconscious motion, but you hardly ever knew with Will.

“Uhuh, I was seventeen. It was snowing outside. Mycroft caught me masturbating.”

“ _ Right _ , I’ll hang up your clothes and order some food,” Greg announced and fled the bathroom. He spread Will’s clothes that he had worn and those from the bag over each and every surface close to a radiator and called his favourite takeout place. Then he went back to the bathroom, but only entered after knocking.

“It’s your bathroom, why are you knocking?” Will asked, his head lolling on the edge of the bathtub. He looked much better than he had twenty minutes ago.

“In case you’re masturbating, maybe,” Greg joked and sat down at the edge of the tub, and Will smiled at him.

“Would you like me to?”

“Will,” Greg chided. “I didn’t bring you here for sexual favours. I’m not your client today.”

“How about a free ride, then?” The man’s eyes twinkled impishly.

Greg snorted. “I don’t think you’re in the condition to ride anything or anyone. May I remind you that you couldn’t stand upright half an hour ago?”

“Well, you know, the oldest trick in the book of prostitutes: lie on your back and spread your legs. Act like you’re half delirious with lust. Relax after successful penetration,” Will explained as if he was reading from a manual.

“Well, now that you’ve told me, the trick won’t work on me anymore.”

“Hogwash. Of course it will.”

Greg pulled a face. He hadn’t expected such a tone after what had happened in the last few hours. “I’m not taking advantage of you. It’s bad enough that I usually pay you, but you’re not going to sell your body to me for shelter and food and warm water.”

“Not even one round as a thank-you? I’ve seen you look, before.” Will teased, smiling.

“No, Will,” Greg said earnestly and more than a bit sour by now. “Sex can’t pay for everything. Maybe you’ve been in business for too long, but some people actually help others out of kindness, and not for gain. And I’m not interested in a thank-you fuck.”

Will’s smile had faded, his face was now grave. “I’ve insulted you.” His voice made it apparent that he hadn’t expected that.

Greg nodded. “Yes, you did.”

Will turned his head to the side and looked down. His face went through a few expressions before it settled on shame. “I’m sorry. I don’t really think you’d take advantage. I know you’re a good man. Maybe you’re right, maybe I have lived in those circles for too long, where you can offer sex for anything. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m very grateful, you know.”

Greg stared into Will’s eyes for a moment longer and then nodded. “Accepted. How are you feeling by now. Better?”

“A lot better.” Will lowered himself into the tub until only his eyes were barely visible over the waterline, and he turned his gaze to Greg, making his eyes big and round. It looked so adorable that Greg had to smile, despite their little squabble. Somehow, he thought while he watched Will wash his hair with vigorous movements, somehow he never managed to be really cross with the man, even when he deserved it.

When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, Greg got up from where he had been sitting and told Will to come out if he could. He went to get the food, prepared two plates for them and took them into the living room, where he turned up the heating a bit more, and did the same in the bedroom. Briefly, he wondered if Will would still sleep in his bed tonight. He’d probably just have to wait and see. This time without knocking, he went back into the bathroom, where Will was currently struggling to get out of the tub without breaking his neck. Greg sighed, and went over to help.

“Thanks. It’s almost like all my muscles are so stressed and relaxed at the same time that  they won’t hold me up anymore.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your body has probably been waiting to have a proper breakdown for weeks. You’ll eat and then you’ll go to bed. I can’t even begin to imagine how exhausting your life must be.” He helped the young man towel himself dry as the water drained from the tub with a homey gurgling sound.

“It’s not a bed of roses, I can tell you that. Unless the roses are by special delivery from Morticia; no petals, all thorns.”

Greg snorted. “You’d fit in with the Addams Family just fine.” He handed his bathrobe to William, who accepted with a genuine smile. When Greg turned to leave the bathroom, Will held him back with a hand on the other man’s sleeve.

“Can I kiss you at least, as a thank you?”

Greg’s face darkened a little. “Now why would you want to do that?” After all, it had been Will who had said that they weren’t friends or anything. Will had told him that there would be no emotional attachment.

“Because I am a sociopath and my incompetence regarding niceties and expressing feelings knows no bounds. I really just want to do it, and I’m asking you if you’ll let me.”

Greg said nothing, but nodded.

Very softly, Will pressed his chapped lips to Greg’s. After what he was used to from the young man, this was positively chaste. Just a peck, really. They smiled at each other, both a little awkward for a change, but Will’s growling stomach made sure they hurried into the livingroom. At least, Will had the decency to put on his pants that had hung over the radiator, before he sat down to eat.

After they had finished their food, Will stretched, looking like a cat that had gotten everything it wanted for once.

“Bed?” 

“That would be very much appreciated.” Will yawned.

“Up, then, if you’re not wobbly like a squid from all the relaxation.” Greg put one arm around the boy’s thin body frame and halfway pulled him into the bedroom. Will didn’t protest. So much for waiting to see how Will would prefer the sleeping arrangements to be.

“We’re far past the point where propriety is of any importance, wouldn’t you say?” Will asked and sat down on the bed, shedding the bathrobe.

“Probably. Why?”

“Because I’d like to wear pants and nothing else in bed, and I’d like to sleep in your arms as usual. I don’t care that you’re not my client this time, I _ like  _ sleeping with your arms around me. It’s warmer, and I need physical closeness tonight, and I never wake up in the middle of the night when I’m with you. Make of it what you want.”

Greg nodded and went to his side of the bed to crawl in. He had always hated how cold a bed was in winter, how long it took to get warm, and he welcomed Will’s body warmth when the young man came into his arms.

“What does this make us, then?”

Will groaned quietly. “What does it matter? Do we have to pin a name to everything? We’re pretty fucked up, that’s what we are, all things considered. And I don’t care what else that makes us. At the moment, though, you’re doing pretty well as a heat cushion.”

Greg chuckled into the little ringlets at the nape of Will’s neck. They were still a little damp and smelled clean and soapy. “I’m actually fascinated that you let me touch you just like that. That you even like it.”

Will moved a bit in Greg’s arms. “I could say the same.”

“Come on. You know why I come to you, why I chose you a few months ago. You’re the one who normally can’t choose. From your point of view, I could just as well be merely another client whose vile hands you have to tolerate on your body.”

The young man snuggled a little closer.  “You’ve not been vile, though. Since we met, you’ve been nothing but understanding and kind to me, despite what I am and what I do. Today, you saved me, and stood up for me, and even offered me a safe, warm place to stay and food and everything. No matter what, you’ll never be just a client again after today. It’s been too long since anyone has been kind to me.” 

Greg almost didn’t hear the last, because Will had whispered it into the pillow. The older man tightened his arm around his guest.

“You’re welcome.”

Will yawned luxuriously and tangled his fingers with Greg’s. “I can feel that.”

 

Greg woke in the middle of the night. At first he thought it was because he was a little cold, and he briefly asked himself when Will had shifted away from him. But then he heard a quiet moan to his right and turned his head a bit, thinking that maybe his guest had a nightmare. Will was still next to him, though he must have scooted away a little, and his back was turned towards Greg in the darkness. He couldn’t see much, but the little movements he could perceive and the sounds he could hear all spoke volumes. Greg didn’t have a doubt after observing for a minute longer; Will was touching himself, right next to him while he thought his host asleep.

For a few minutes, he just lay there, listening to the obscene, slick sounds and the little gasps. He felt his cock stir, but he really wasn’t sure if he should disturb the boy or not. Obviously, Will was as genuinely horny as Greg would ever get to see him; this wasn’t a show for once, since he’d waited until Greg was asleep. So would he want him to join in? Will wasn’t here ‘on business’ and Greg still wasn’t sure if Will would want him if he didn’t pay. The words Will had thrown at him weeks ago were still playing in his head: ‘We’re not lovers or even friends.’

“Will?”

The boy let out a loud gasp and curled in on himself, but he didn’t turn to look at Greg. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Greg asked and slid a little closer.

“I don’t know...everything, I suppose. Anything.”

“Do you want me to leave you to it? I could give you some privacy if…”

“No! Stay.” Will seemed to hesitate, then he turned onto his back. His hand was still around his cock and he was still hard, his pants were pulled down just enough and the waistband was pressing against his balls. And fuck, his eyes seemed to burn in the darkness. Even though the only light came from the street outside, Greg could see the flushed cheeks. Will’s mouth stood half open. He looked simply gorgeous.

“Alright, I’ll stay. What...what do you want? I don’t know...how to handle this the right way.”

Will moved his hand on his cock and gasped. “Will you watch me? And then, if you want, fuck me.”

Greg pulled a face reflexively. “I don’t know…”

“You’re not taking advantage. I want it.”

The older man still wasn’t convinced. “Is that really what you want? It doesn’t have to be like...like it normally is. If you want something else…”

“I want it. Please, Lestrade, believe me this that once I’m not acting. Just because I’m a hooker doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy sex. I do, with you. You don’t have to. But I’d like it.  _ Please? _ ”

Greg considered it, but he knew that he wouldn’t actually say no. The sight had aroused him too much already. “Then let me watch you first, baby.”

Will let out a sigh of relief and maybe arousal, and started to fist his cock in earnest. However, Greg wanted for them both to enjoy it, so he laid a gentle hand on Will’s wrist.

“Not so fast, baby. Won’t you draw it out a little? It would feel much better. And look much sexier.”

Will whimpered and slowed the movements of his hand until he was stroking his length almost softly. “Like that, daddy?”

It was almost creepy how easily they both slipped into their roles, roles they normally used when Will’s affection was bought, but now it felt almost better, because Greg knew they both genuinely enjoyed it.

“Yes, my little one. Swipe your thumb over the head from time to time, will you?”

Will did, and his hands trembled. “Was it naughty of me that I touched myself while you were sleeping, daddy?”

The older man wrapped a hand around his own cock through his pyjama trousers, merely squeezing for now.

“No, baby. I just wish you had woken me sooner.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured. And I was a little ashamed that I was so hard when I woke up, and after such a horrible day and all the exhaustion and excitement, too.”

“It’s very natural that after such a surge of adrenaline, you get aroused easily, baby. And why would you think I’d feel pressured?”

“Because you said you weren’t going to sleep with me tonight, daddy.”

“I said I wouldn’t take advantage of you.”

“And you wouldn’t have believed me if I’d just said that I wanted it right then and there, would you?”

Greg caressed Will’s angelic face with one hand. “Probably not, no.”

Will leaned his face into the touch. “I’m sorry it’s sometimes so hard to trust me.”

Greg could have glossed it over with a gentle lie, but instead, he said: “It is, sometimes. You know all the tricks and you use them shamelessly and perfectly.”

Will rolled over so that he could hide his face on Greg’s chest. He hadn’t let go of his cock. “I’m sorry, daddy. But I promise, I mean it this time.”

“I believe you, baby. Let daddy see how horny you are, hm? Bring yourself off for me.”

Will moaned and grabbed his cock harder again. “But if I come, I’ll get myself and you and the sheets all sticky and dirty!”

“Well, I can always make you lick it up, can’t I, baby?” Greg said mischievously. 

Will’s breath hitched and he  _ whined _ . “Daddy! Watch me, daddy! Oh!” His hand’s movements became erratic and irregular, and he came, moaning sinfully all the while. He kept stroking his cock until a few last drops of ejaculate dripped onto the sheets. The rest was spattered on Greg’s tented pyjama pants. He was sure that Will had done that deliberately. And it seemed he’d guessed correctly, because the young man took a few deep breaths and then scooted down.

“I’m sorry I messed up your clothes, daddy. Let me try to clean it up?”

“Yes, baby, do that.” 

He let out an appreciative sound as Will started to lick at the mess he had made. It felt good, even though his length was still clothed, but he could feel the warm wet tongue all the same. Will mouthed at the stains and went as far as to try and get his lips around the still-clothed erection. But Greg pulled him back gently by grabbing the nape of his neck.

“Kitten licks, baby. You wanted to clean me, not suck my cock, or did you try to trick me into fucking your pretty lips?”

Playing innocent, Will dropped his gaze coquettishly. “No, daddy, I wanted to clean you. But you can still fuck my mouth if you want to.”

“But then, daddy won’t be able to take you. You’ve made me very horny, baby, I don’t think I can last long enough for both things.” It spoke volumes about their strange relationship that Greg wasn’t ashamed to admit that anymore. 

Will bit his lips. “If...can I make a wish, daddy? Would you be mad with me if I decided I want something different?”

“Never, baby. I’d never be mad with you for that. Tell me what you want.”

Instead of keeping up the game and seducing Greg into whatever he wanted, Will came back up and snuggled up to Greg, with his arms around the older man. His expression was soft, but also a little more serious.

“I want you to...to lay down on me when I’m on my stomach, and rut against my arse, and come all over my back, without penetrating me. Just...in between. With lube. Would you want to try?”

Greg thought about that. “I can try. It certainly sounds hot. But you wouldn’t get anything out of that, would you? I want you to feel good, too.”

Will smiled and kissed along Greg’s jawline. “I’ve just come. And it’s not always the orgasm that counts. I bet I’d like the feeling. If you find you don’t like it, we can do something else.”

Finally, Greg nodded, smiling at the younger man. “Okay, we can try.”

When he shifted, though, Will grabbed his wrist and looked at him intently. “I’ll let you do it without a condom, but you have to promise me not to push in!”

Greg was a little surprised by the fierce tone, but he nodded all the same. “I promise I won’t. And I couldn’t, even if I wanted, you’re not prepared, so…”

Will laughed, but it sounded sad to Greg’s ears. “Sometimes, you’re really sweet. Alright.” The young man pressed his lips to Greg’s and they shared a longing kiss that seemed to last forever. “Fuck me,” Will whispered when he finally let go, and then turned to lie on his stomach next to Greg, face buried in the cushion and arms above his head.

Greg licked his lips at the sight. No matter how often he saw Will’s naked body, it always felt like a first. He traced the outline of Will’s backside with a finger and felt the body beneath him tremble slightly. With two fingers coated in lube, he slicked up his partner’s cleft until he was satisfied with the feeling. Will was shivering; maybe Greg had nudged at his entrance a bit too often. The young man wriggled his arse wantonly.

“Alright, come here, baby…” The police officer positioned himself over Will’s body and let his cock glide along the slick line he had just drawn with his fingers.

“Lie down,” Will said in a breathless tone, and Greg obeyed. Trying to hold most of his weight with his elbows, he felt his cock, trapped beneath him, wedge between the boy’s arse cheeks, and it felt nothing short of amazing. Slowly, he began to rut against Will, who sighed contentedly and went limp underneath the older man. The slick warmth of the young man’s body made Greg’s cock even harder. He thought back to what he’d just seen: Will masturbating next to him, squeezing his own cock and looking beautifully obscene as he came all over the sheets and Greg’s trousers.

“Does it feel as good as you thought it would?” he asked, and nibbled Will’s earlobe where it was visible under the ebony curls.

“Does,” Will said tersely. “Don’t stop.”

Greg lifted his hips a bit for more powerful thrusts, and the tip of his cock caught at Will’s tight ring of muscle for a second. The boy keened. Greg’s head spun.

“Do you want daddy to come like that?” he asked into the boy’s ear.

Will moaned. “Yes, daddy.”

“Yes what, my pretty boy? Tell me what exactly you want.” And he bit the side of Will’s neck.

“I...ah! I want daddy to come on my back, I want daddy to get me all dirty!” 

Only now did Greg notice that Will was humping the mattress as far as Greg’s body weight on him allowed.

“You’re hard again,” Greg said, and it came out almost reverently.   
“Yes, daddy. I’m so hard. Can I come again, please, can I?”

“Only after daddy has finished with your lovely arse, baby, it would be rude of you to come twice before daddy’s come even once. And you want daddy to come on your back, don’t you?” He set a punishing rhythm and felt his climax building slowly.

“Yes, daddy. Oh yes! Come on me, please, come on me! Daddy!”

Greg felt his cock twitch and shoot hot spurts of seed onto the writhing man’s back. Wasting no time, he got up halfway, so that he knelt behind Will, and smeared a hand through the wetness, only to move over to Will’s side a second later and grab the boy’s dark hair with his sticky hand.

“Touch yourself for daddy again, come on, baby boy!”

Will’s hand disappeared underneath him in a flash, and he lifted his hips to be able to thrust into his fist, but Greg was having none of it. He wanted to see this, so he pulled Will’s torso up by his shoulder and Will followed like a pet pulled along on a leash. The young man never stopped the frantic movements of his hand, and Greg could enjoy a great view of the speeding hand as Will pulled on his cock with abandon. Feeling helpful - meaning, mischievous - Greg stroked Will’s back and in doing so spread his ejaculate all over the milky white skin. Will’s breathing was frantic by now, and his hand on his hard length made the most sinful, slick sounds.

“Daddy, can I…?”

“Yes, honey, let me see you come again. My horny little baby boy. Come for daddy.”

Will’s body shuddered violently and he came, falling forward, only supported by his left hand and Greg’s arm that wrapped around the man’s chest protectively.

Greg kept stroking Will’s back as his breathing went back to normal.

“Good boy,” he whispered, and Will sighed happily.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, not for that,” Greg said with a smile, and let go very slowly. 

Will sat back on his heels, looking exhausted but happy, maybe as happy as Greg had ever seen him. 

“I’m afraid I made a mess of your hair. And your back.” The older man grinned sheepishly, but Will laughed. Actually laughed.

“I don’t mind, but I think I should wash up. Sleeping with spunk all over your skin and hair is not something I’d recommend.”

“Huh, understandable. Can I join you in the bathroom?”

Will smiled. “You’re not my client. You don’t need to ask.”

The young man pulled Greg with him into the bathroom. He almost seemed like a happy kid. A bit more and he’d probably be bouncing up and down. It was adorable. In the bathroom, Will grinned lasciviously and bent over the bathtub, grabbing the showerhead and washing his hair while presenting his arse. It was still glistening with lube and come, and the sight made Greg’s loins tingle.

“Want me to get the rest for you?”

“Please.”

Greg wet a washcloth with warm water and rubbed over Will’s back, before sliding deeper and washing away the lube from his arse and the drops of seed from his limp cock. Rinsing the cloth, he came back and traced the same pattern again. By now, Will was finished with his hair, but had placed his hands on the edge of the tub, still bending, and waited for Greg to finish, eyes closed appreciatively. The older man grabbed a towel and rubbed Will’s back and backside until it was dry, then he gave the towel to Will for his hair. The young man rubbed the dark strands vigorously and came out looking like an exploded hedgehog. Greg bit back a giggle. Will ignored him, combed his fingers through his hair where his locks were already springing up again, and marched back to the bedroom, a highly dignified expression on his face that made Greg bite back another giggle. He cleaned himself up a bit and then took the washcloth back to the bedroom.

“I don’t think that’ll help much.” The boy grinned from where he was lounging at the foot of the bed, showing off his bloody  _ everything _ .

“No,” Greg conceded. “But I’d rather roll over and know that the wet spot is water and not anything else.”

After he was done and could crawl under the covers again, Will joined him once more, snuggling into him like a big cat.

“You know what?”

“What?”

“You look so gorgeous, I could snog you senseless.”

Will grinned. “And if I wasn’t a sociopathic asshole, I’d blush and squeal like a girl now.”

Greg laughed. “You know, I think I actually  _ will _ snog you senseless.” 

And he crushed his lips against the other man’s to make good on his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The whole hypothermia thing was actually quite educational for me, I learned something while writing fanfiction, and it wasn't the first time. And every time, I'm surprised. For those who don't know, this is actually how you treat hypothermia; by taking off wet clothes, supplying body heat, drinking something hot and NEVER take the warm bath first, and never rub any limbs, because in serious cases, this can lead to the bloodflow getting too quick, and your heart could stop. Warm the person SLOWLY. Thanks for reading this totally random piece of information.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will wakes Lestrade a bit too early. Lestrade is not amused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short but sweet. No, actually, it's not sweet. You could probably say, it's kind of...well, it's violent, but it's consensual violence. There's spanking, and not the nice kind, there's crying and there's scolding. This is definitely punishment that is meant to teach, not please. But Lestrade knows how to deal with Headspace-Sherlock.

Greg had gotten next to no sleep that night, thanks to Will. He didn’t know what it was, but Will was like a horny teenager all of a sudden. When Greg woke, it wasn’t his alarm clock’s fault, but Will’s, who was rubbing against his host’s back.

“Did I wake you?”

Greg made an annoyed sound. “It’s six in the bloody morning and I don’t have to be awake before seven, what do you think was it that woke me?”

“Enlighten me,” said the boy against Greg’s neck and kept humping him languidly.

“Please, Will. Stop that. I’m really tired.”

“And I’m really horny,” Will whined. “Tonight you said you wished I’d have woken you earlier, when I was touching myself.”

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s still night. Will, stop that, really, this is just a bit too much,” Greg complained, as the young man started to press little kisses around the nape of his host’s neck. “I need to sleep! I’ve had four hours tonight!”

Will huffed, but didn’t stop neither the kissing nor the humping. “Sleep is boring. I’d rather enjoy lying in a real bed for once by spending quality time with you.”

“You are with me. Now shut up and let me sleep, you insatiable thing,” Greg said grumpily. “I’ve a long day ahead of me.”

“Pff, fine then, sleep. I’ll just wank while rutting against your arse, then.”

“You do that.”

“Oh  _ come on _ , Lestrade! Don’t leave me hanging here!”

“You’re not hanging. Far from it, I think. I’m really tired, Will, leave me be, or I might actually consider tying you down for once.” He probably shouldn’t have said that, but he was  _ really _ tired and  _ really _ annoyed.

“Ooohh, I’d let you. As long as I get to come.”

“Fucking hell,” the police officer groaned and rolled onto his back. He was wide awake now, still incredibly  _ tired _ , but there was no way he’d be able to sleep with that stroppy child next to him. “You’re an annoying dick!”

Will said nothing but looked at him expectantly.

“I’m not sleeping with you now.”

“Well then at least let me…”

“No! I know you’re a master of manipulation, and normally, that’s alright. But enough is enough. And not letting me sleep when I desperately need to do so is definitely not okay.”

Will had the audacity to come closer and cling to Greg’s body. “Then you should discipline me, daddy.”

Greg’s cock twitched, but he ignored it pointedly. The boy wouldn’t manipulate his way into this, not this time, he decided. He had manipulated his way into it earlier that night already. If Will was playing for being disciplined, he bloody well would be. And if the boy wanted Greg to show dominance and demand respect, he would.

He sat up and manhandled the boy onto his stomach and then onto his own lap, so that Will’s backside was on display on Greg’s knees. Will just let him do it and couldn’t hide a satisfied grin. Well, he’d see who’d be grinning in a minute.

“If I hear a single word from you apart from maybe your safeword, I’ll throw you out of the bedroom and you can sleep on the couch in the future. I mean it.”

Without waiting for an answer, Greg pulled the boy’s pants down and let his hand fall on Will’s pale arse cheeks, maybe a little harder than was needed. Will’s self-satisfied smile vanished.

The young man yelped and whimpered, but he bore the punishment without a word as his backside went from pale to pink to an angry red with each successive blow. Greg’s hand was tingling, but he didn’t care. He felt Will’s erection against his thighs, but he ignored that, too. He’d had enough, and Will needed to be shown that some things were not okay.

After more than thirty blows, Greg stopped. The boy on his lap was sobbing and there were tears on his face, but he was also rock-hard, so Greg refused to let his bad conscience get the better of him. He helped Will sit up and the young man moaned. His backside was positively glowing red and had to hurt like hell.

“If I tell you no, you won’t try to manipulate or talk me into it, understand? And if I want to sleep, you’ll let me sleep. If you want this game between us to work, you’ll have to respect me and my wishes, too, as I respect you and your wishes. And you won’t whinge until I give in or get mad. If you want me to take care of you from time to time, you can’t walk all over me when I don’t do what you want. Now, I’ll lie down again and you won’t wake me under any circumstances until it’s at least eight. You will lie at the foot of the mattress for the rest of the night and you’ll be quiet, not move around and you won’t touch yourself. If you’re not happy with that, you can go sleep in the living-room.”

Will let out another sob, and Greg had to bite his lips inwardly to keep up his strict demeanour. He wanted so much to comfort Will - the sight of him crying like a child was devastating - but Greg knew he had to go through with this. Will was anything but a spoilt child, rather the opposite, he expected, and he certainly had a tough life and deserved to be comforted and coddled and everything, but that didn’t mean he could just do anything he wanted while he was here, even if, or maybe especially when, he was in headspace like he was now. Time to establish some rules.

“Now decide what you want to do.”

Will hesitated for another moment, tears still rolling down his cheeks, from the spanking or the harsh words, Greg didn’t know, but finally, he grabbed the sheet he had slept under and moved downwards to the bottom end of the bed where he curled up like a whipped dog. So he was still in headspace. The normal adult would be too proud for any of what had just happened here. Headspace seemed to be a safe place for Will, and Greg suddenly realised what his subconscious had known almost from the beginning: Will trusted him. Trusted him to take good care of him and give him what he needed. Even if he needed punishment.

Greg reached for Will’s head and patted the dark locks for a moment. “Good boy.”

“I…”

“I said I don’t want to hear a word from you. You can talk to me when I get up.”

Will fell silent and curled up a bit more under his sheet. Greg watched him from the corner of his eye while he set his alarm clock for eight. He’d be late at work, but hell, he’d need his brain, too, and that brain currently felt exhausted.

As Greg let himself fall onto his pillow again, he could still hear a bit of snuffling from the boy. It was heartbreaking, but Greg forced himself to close his eyes and ignore Will’s silent weeping.

 

When he woke up this time, it was because his alarm clock was beeping. The hour and a half had been heaven. He slapped at the offending piece of technology until it was silent, and stretched. His foot nudged against something soft, and he heard a shuffling as Will moved away to give Greg more space. Greg looked down and held out a hand.

“Come here.”

Will came crawling up the bed and knelt next to Greg, still silent as ordered. He was obviously still not ‘normal’ again, because he still looked like a puppy with a sore paw.

“Lie down,” Greg ordered, and opened his arms to show the other man what he wanted. Will came into his arms and put his head onto Greg’s chest. It was adorable, and also a little sad.

“Anything you want to say?”

“I’m sorry, daddy. I kept bugging you and I ignored what you said. It was selfish of me. Especially after everything you’ve done for me yesterday. I deserved my punishment.” His voice sounded so impossibly small that Greg couldn’t help but pat his hair and kiss his forehead.

“I’m glad you understand.”

“Are you still mad at me?”

“No, baby. You got your punishment, and I’m proud of you for being so good about it.”

He could feel the young man shudder in his arms, and Will rubbed his head against Greg’s chest like a cat. Greg blinked. Will was practically purring. And he was pretty damn sure that it was the praise that had done that. Not just any praise, but Greg telling him he was proud of him. That was probably something Will hadn’t heard in a long time.

“Oh my pretty boy,” he murmured, and caressed whatever he could reach of Will’s skin with his fingers. Will snuggled closer if at all possible. “We have to get up, baby. I’m already one hour late for work, and you have a statement to make.”

Will groaned. “Just one more minute? I’m not ready to come back yet,” he whined.

Smiling leniently, Greg let his fingernails trail up and down Will’s spine for a moment. He was just asking himself if he would have to reprimand Will again, but before long, Will sat up and stretched.

“I need a shower. Will you take one with me while I come back? It’s not so easy after such a long time, or such intense experiences.”

Greg nodded and got out of bed with the other man, and both shuffled towards the bathroom.

The water did help to clear Greg’s head, and he expected that it was the same with Will. He could practically see the little boy being tucked away in the depths of Will’s head, and saw the haughty mask resurface, even though he knew that Will wouldn’t fully turn into his old bitchy self until they left the safety of the flat.

“What will you do after your statement?” Greg asked over a cup of breakfast tea.

Will shrugged. “Same old, I suppose. What choice do I have?”

Greg felt a twinge of regret. “You can come back this evening if you like.”

“You’ve done enough, Lestrade. It’s not your job to fix me.”

“You said it’s sometimes your job to fix sorry-ass people like me who come to you, and I think you kind of did. Broken people come to me, too, you know, and most of the time, I can’t help them as much as I want to. But I can help _ you _ .”

Will smiled, and his right hand twitched as if he wanted to touch Greg. “You helped me a great deal, but you can’t fix me. And I’d like to keep seeing you, in whatever way you want. But I have my life and you have yours. I’m immeasurably grateful for your help. But there’s nothing you can do to fix my life, and I won’t let you even influence yours for mine. Believe me. You owe me nothing, and you can’t help any more than you already did.”

“At least come back tonight. Just that one night.”

Will huffed, but nodded finally.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg marches right into the lion's den (meaning Mycroft's office) to try and help, guessing correctly that he's the only one who can.
> 
> No smut in this chapter, but a key scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another very short chapter. I thought Greg would deserve some more BAMF time. I think there are a few people who would face Mycroft to help Sherlock, and Lestrade is definitely one of them. Mycroft being Mycroft; he's an arse, but you know he loves Sherlock.
> 
> Next chapter..hmm tomorrow? I promise, it's longer and there's more going on!
> 
> Hint hint, I BREATHE for comments. They're a big part of what keeps me going.

“I need to speak with Mycroft Holmes.”

“The minister is busy at the moment.”

“Tell him it’s about his little brother.”

Silence.

“A moment, sir.”

Greg leaned back in his chair. He was fully aware that this was complete madness.

The line clicked.

“Sergeant. I hope you’re aware of the level of attention you’re receiving from me at the moment. I’ll advise you not to waste my time. What do you know about my brother? Has something happened to him?” Mycroft Holmes’ voice was deadly calm and icy.

“No, sir. I’d like to talk to you about him.”

“Have you seen him?”

“Yes, I have. Can we meet?”

“I’m a very busy man, Sergeant. Do not test my patience. What do you know about him?”

“I know where he is from time to time. And I can get to him. I understand you’ve been looking for him and haven’t been successful, sir.”

“Then tell me where he is and when.”

“No.”

He heard Mycroft suck in a deep breath. “I don’t follow,” he said, and it sounded more like a threat than anything else.

“I want to help him.”

“So do I. Tell me where he is.”

“No.”

“If you value the life you lead, you’ll tell me where he is. It’s not your place to help him, it’s mine.”

“He doesn’t want your help. But he might accept mine. But I can’t do it alone.”

“This is none of your business, Sergeant. You’ll stay out of this if you know what’s good for you and your career and tell me where he is.”

“You’ll refuse to help your little brother just because you won’t be in full control? No help for him if you can’t have your own way? Is that what you’re saying?”

There was a short silence, then Mycroft Holmes laughed the coldest laugh Greg had ever heard.

“Be at my office in an hour, Sergeant. Don’t be late.”

 

Yep, Greg was definitely batshit crazy, walking into Mycroft Holmes’ office just like that. When Holmes’ secretary shut the door behind Greg, it sounded far too final.

“Would you like anything?” the man said frostily. “Tea? Coffee?”

“Your _ help _ ,” Greg said firmly, and sat down in front of Holmes’ desk.

The six foot something man sat down opposite him. “Now, enlighten me. How did you get acquainted with my brother?”

“That’s not important for what I want from you.”

There was a fleeting expression of disgust on Holmes’ face. “I see. You’re a client.”

Greg tried to keep it together. “I’d say it’s more than that.”

“I’d say it’s never more than that with a prostitute,” Mycroft sneered.

The dismissive tone made Greg angry. “ _ I’d say _ that you’re not in a position to judge what kind of relationship I have with your brother. I’m not saying anything about romantic attachment. But I want to help him. He shouldn’t live like that. He doesn’t want to. And he doesn’t need to. He’s bright...”

“Comparatively,” Mycroft drawled.

“You harbour a lot of contempt for him. Thank god it’s not my place to guess at the reason why he doesn’t want your help or even your company, however briefly.”

Mycroft glared at the officer. “Careful, Sergeant. You don’t know anything about the relationship between my brother and me. Or my brother. Or me.”

“I know part of the problem is that you want to force a kind of help on him that he doesn’t want. You try to find him, and that’s why he can’t move without looking over his shoulder. His brother shouldn’t be his biggest problem. But he lets me near him and he trusts me. I can help him, maybe. You can’t.”

Mycroft leaned back in his chair. “So you know where he is, at least sometimes.”

“Yes.”

“I could pay you a handsome sum of money for that information. Name your price and tell me where he is.”

“No.” No wonder Will thought that everything in the world could be bought by money or paid for by sex. “I don’t want your money. Not for myself at least. I want money for him, so he doesn’t need to do the work he’s currently doing. He won’t accept it if I offer him anything, and frankly, it’s not that much.”

“You do know where he invests his money, no matter where it comes from?”

“Yes. I also know that there are things other than drugs that he’d do anything for.”

“Such as?”

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder. But I do think I could get him away from the drugs with a bit of help, at least I want to try. But during that time he needs a place to stay, and the means to make him feel human again. I’ve seen many tramps in my life. To get out of that swamp, they’d need a job and they can’t get one because they live on the street. It doesn’t work that way. So if you could possibly accept the fact that someone else will take care of your brother and you have to hold back for his sake just this once, he might have a chance.”

Mycroft was silently staring at Greg, minute after minute. Greg was nervous, but trying his best to hide it. He could see Holmes’ brain working. He just had to keep his nerve and wait, and if Mycroft was even a little bit less of a proud asshole than Greg anticipated…

“If Sherlock finds out that you and me are working together, he’ll stop trusting you immediately.”

Greg tried to hide his surprise at the use of Will’s strange second name. “Possibly. Unless maybe you can find a way to make it look better.”

Mycroft pondered this again. “Say I found out about you and him instead of you coming to me and I were trying to get you on my side with money, buying information about his status and your silence about our agreement as well. Say you’d tell him and ask him to tell you what kind of information you can give me and which not. He always so loved playing tricks on me, thinking he’s one step ahead.”

Greg nodded. “Fair enough.”

Holmes looked at Greg for a second longer, obviously trying to decide whether or not to trust him, but in the end, he opened a drawer of his desk and held out a little plastic card to Greg. “That’s for his bank account. I’ll unfreeze it and put some money on there whenever needed. I want updates. Not all the time. I will stop following his every move, tell him that. I won’t bother him at all.”

Greg reached for the card. In a quick movement that the officer hadn’t thought the other man capable of, Mycroft captured his wrist.

“You will not touch him again. You can help him without sleeping with him. If you ever pay for his company again, I will have you locked away, and I don’t care on what charges, trust me, I’ll find something. And if you think of tricking me in any way, I’d think again, Sergeant.” He let go.

Greg rubbed his wrist, staring at the minister. This talk had done nothing to make him like Holmes more. Not at all.

“One could get the feeling that your reputation is of more importance to you than your brother’s wellbeing. You really do see it as a personal insult that he’s earning money this way, do you?”

Mycroft’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Don’t overdo it, Sergeant. Would you like it that if you think about your brother, you can be eighty percent sure that some human scum is having him up against a wall at that very moment? That he’s out there, either high or hungry or freezing or selling his body? And he won’t let you help him. Because he hates you. And then some nobody turns up in your office and tells you that he has access to him, thinking that he’s so clever, and you have to trust him because every other way has failed.  _ Never _ doubt that I worry about him,  _ constantly, _ do you hear me? I am prepared to go to any lengths for Sherlock. If I notice that you abuse this agreement - or him - in any way, you’ll find out exactly how far that is.”

Greg nodded with a stony face.

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greg and Sherlock have "a talk". Sherlock shows a little snout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, because it's Yuletide and all that, AND because I'm going to London tomorrow evening, without a laptop or smartphone (yes, I know, survival mode), I'll give you one more chapter now and return in a week.   
> I'd be the happiest little fawn on earth if my mailbox would be full with your comments and maybe suggestions when I come back! Anything you want to read here before I wrap up the story? Tell me! :)  
> Have fun with the chapter! I'll see you all in a week's time, unless any of you are up for a butterbeer at the London Christmas markets? ;)

Even though Mycroft Holmes’ presence was among the most bowel-moving things Greg had ever endured, he was almost even more nervous to tell Will - Sherlock - what he had done. Perhaps he was meddling too much. It wasn’t his business, both brothers had said that. But the picture of Will yesterday evening, soaking wet from the rain and treated like a criminal because he was conveniently near a crime scene and too poor to defend himself, was still vivid in his mind. The heart-wrenching way Will’s teeth had chattered and his face when he was soaking in the bathtub, as if there was nothing more wonderful in the world for him.

Greg didn’t even have a real plan about how he’d tell Will. But he’d made the experience that, if he didn’t try to come up with the words in advance, he’d do better.

Will was sitting on his doorstep again when he came home that day, and Greg was relieved. He had half expected Will to just vanish again.

As soon as Greg was close, Will got up. “There’s something on your mind.”

“Clever clogs. Come on in.” He hoped his voice sounded normal.

“Oh. That sounds like ‘we have to talk’. I didn’t realise we were a teenage couple.” Will meant to sound light, but Greg could hear the alarm underneath. Still, the boy came up willingly and, after shedding his jacket, sat down on Greg’s couch.

“Alright, talk, then.”

The police officer hesitated for a moment, then he pulled the bank card that Mycroft had given him from his back pocket and laid it on the coffee table in front of Will.

The boy stared at it for a whole minute and then at Greg.

“You’ve seen Mycroft.” 

Greg did notice Will’s body twitch in the direction of the door, as if his subconscious wanted him to bolt. Breathe.

“Yes.”

“Did he ask you where I am?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him?”

“No.”

“He probably offered you a lot of money for that information alone.”

“He did.”

“And still you didn’t tell him?”

“You told me you didn’t want to see him. Do you really think that after that panic attack you had in my office yesterday, I’d have sold you out, quite literally?”

Will stared at him. Greg expected some kind of eloquent or mocking answer, but instead, the boy just asked: “Really?”

“I told you that I’ll never do anything you don’t want.”

“Yes, but...but…”

Greg sat down next to Will. “Are you upset that I talked to Mycroft?”

Will huffed. “Suppose it was only a matter of time until he found me.”

“He won’t bother you. He promised me.  _ If _ you let me take care of you.”

Will stared at him again. From the look in Will’s eyes, like a caged animal, Greg knew that this was it, the moment that would decide everything.

“Hey,” he said, and laid a hand on Will’s. “It’s me, remember? Me, and nobody else. I still won’t do anything you don’t want. I don’t care what your brother thinks I should do about you. I won’t tell you what to do, I just want to be...I don’t know... _ there _ . Someone you can trust. I know you hate the life you lead at the moment. You probably think you can’t do it alone, and maybe you’re right. I know it takes a lot of bravery to come out of such a deep, black pit as the one you are in at the moment. And most of the time, you also need someone by your side.”   
“And you think you are that person.” Will’s voice was a little colder now.

“I don’t want to patronise you. I won’t even tell you to give up the drugs right away. I know that takes time. I just want you to be off the street.”

“You...this is not about the drugs?” Will asked, obviously surprised.

“No. Well, eventually, I’m not going to lie, but I think that will get better with time and circumstances. If you want me to help you get off the drugs, I’ll try my best, but I won’t force you to do anything. My main concern is that you don’t live on the street anymore and that you don’t have to sell yourself. Please, Will. Let me do this. I’m not going to lord over you, I swear. I won’t tell you to become a respectable member of society. I just want you to eat properly and sleep in a bed.”

Will was silent for another minute. Then he took a deep breath. “Did Mycroft tell you to say all that?”

Greg huffed a laugh. “No, and your brother can go fuck himself. He’s a necessary evil in this, and he’s a haughty asshole. He thinks he can buy anyone. He offered me money for reports on your status.”

Will cracked a smile, which was what Greg had been aiming for. “Did you take the money?”

Greg smiled back at the man. “Well, I didn’t accept in so many words, but in case he does give me some, we can share.” Will let out a short laugh and Greg grinned before he continued. “But I won’t tell him anything that you don’t filter first. It’s your choice what I tell him. By the way, he told me to tell you  _ that _ . He thinks that it’ll appease you and make you feel one step ahead of him. However, I don’t think he realised that I meant it. I won’t tell him anything you don’t want, and that’s a fact. No matter how clever he thinks he is, he can’t buy my loyalty. I’m not in it for the money, although I’ll take it to make him think he succeeded, and I sure won’t grumble about a little extra. But really, I’m in it for you.”

Will’s eyes scrutinised him, but Greg had relaxed by now. He had no intention to deceive William. And it seemed that the other man realised that after a minute, because his face broke into another, tentative smile.

“You really are on my side.”

“I am, kid. I know that technically, I have no right to meddle, but...”

Will stared for another minute and then gave him a small peck on the lips. “Anything else he told you to tell me or not to tell me?”

“Don’t think so. But he told me that I’m not allowed to sleep with you anymore.”

“Oh.” Will looked uncertain. “And will you listen to him?”

Greg smiled. “Hell no. Do you really think that your brother threatening me with prison is enough to stop me from fucking you as long as you want it?”

Will laughed. “He did, did he? He threatened to have you arrested if you ever had sex with me again?”

“He did.” The older man grinned. “And to be honest, if you still want it, I’m totally prepared to ignore his bloody embargo on your body.”

Will laughed again and scooted closer. “That’s childish. And you know what? I totally feel the same.” The boy playfully bit Greg’s earlobe. “How dare he try to take your cock away from me?”

Greg laughed, too, and reached around Will to stroke his back. “I hope you don’t just want it because your brother forbade it?”

“No. The sex with you is far too good to give it up. And if Mycroft says it’s not allowed, I’ll enjoy it even more.”

Without another word, Will got up and straddled Greg’s lap.

“I’m still fascinated that you enjoy having sex with me.”

Will smiled again. “Well, nobody is ever quite so nice and yet so filthy. I can let go with you. Feel safe. No matter what game we play.”

Greg rubbed the boy’s upper thighs. “You can always feel safe with me.”

Will’s smile froze for a second, and he leaned forward to rest his forehead against Greg’s. “Lestrade, I… I don’t want to hurt you. I like you very much. But...we’re not a couple, right? I like what we are now, whatever that is. And I don’t do relationships. It’s very honestly not what I think I should concentrate on right now.”

Greg caressed the boy’s cheek with the back of his hand. “That’s alright. I like the way it is now. Will you still come and sleep here?”

The younger man nodded. “Alright. But I won’t live here. I’ll find a flat for myself. I’ll...visit constantly, so to speak. I don’t want to be alone but I don’t want to be too dependent on you either.”

“Sounds good. Be sure to find a decent flat, will you? It’s Mycroft’s money after all,” Greg said, grinning. Throwing his head back, Will laughed out loud. “And you call  _ me _ a nasty piece of work. What has he done to you that makes you hate him so much?”

“He’s treated you badly. That’s enough for me. I’m thankful that he’s agreed to help, but I don’t have to like him.”

Will’s lips twitched up on one side, and he seemed touched. “You’re so sweet.” He bent down to kiss the older man briefly.

“Will, can I ask you something?” Greg said when Will let go of his lips.

“Sure.”

“When I was talking to Mycroft, he called you Sherlock. Why?”

Perplexed, Will cocked his head to the side. “It’s my name?”

“Yes, but...you introduced yourself as William to me.”

The man smiled a lopsided, sad smile. “Do you think I want my clients to call me what my mother called me when I was a child? Will is a tramp and a whore and a drug addict. Sherlock is...better. I didn’t like the thought that I’d sully the name I’ve come to like. People called me that when they thought me unusually bright.”

“You  _ are _ unusually bright. You read that crime scene yesterday better than any officer,” Greg protested.

Will lit up a bit at the praise. “Well, you see, I don’t want those two...persons, if you want, to have anything to do with each other. If I ever manage to lead a normal life again and find a way to show my cleverness, I won’t tell anyone that my name is William, you can be sure of that. I’d like to be Sherlock again. I always thought that if I could keep those two lives separate, Will’s and Sherlock’s, then I could deal better with it, later on.”

“Hmm. And do you think it’ll work?”

“I’ve always been great at locking things away in my mind. If I manage to take everything to do with Will and lock it up in some remote corner of my head...it might be easier for me. But I don’t know for sure.”

Greg hesitated. “And will that include what we have now? Your liking me or your...need for being punished for that part of your life?”

Will grinned down at him. “Afraid that you won’t get to spank me anymore? It’s possible that I won’t need your, uh, absolution, that I won’t need the pain to feel somewhat redeemed. Pain can be cleansing for me, but I always found it pleasurable anyway, if it came from the right person. I’ll still like it if you hurt me, I just won’t feel that I desperately need it to feel less despicable anymore. Probably. We’ll see.”

Greg nodded. That was fine with him. It had almost felt ritualistic to give Will the punishment he so desired, but it would be nicer if he knew that the man was hurting only outside, not inside, too.

He wanted to say that out loud, when soft lips closed over his, and his attention was pulled back to the actual man on his lap, who was kissing him gently, turning his head this way and that, cupping Greg’s face with his hands. The officer’s hands slid around the thin body and stroked Will’s arse reverently. No matter how many people had ever seen this man as a worthless piece of trash, in Greg’s opinion, they were all idiots, and if he had anything to say, that magnificent, clever creature on his lap would never suffer abuse or neglect of that kind ever again. He could feel Will rocking against him with tiny circular movements of his hips, and there was a gentle hum against his lips where the man was moaning self-indulgently. 

“Take me to bed?”

Greg suppressed an embarrassing whimper and nodded, but when Will tried to climb off his lap, Greg grabbed him tighter and managed to get up without toppling over or embarrassing himself otherwise. The young man bracketed Greg’s hips with his knees and held on tightly as Greg walked to the bedroom. He gently released him on the bed. He didn’t straighten up, though, but crawled over his precious boy and pressed his body against him. Meanwhile, Will was snogging him with abandon.

“Fuck me,” he ordered, without a trace or hint of the high boyish voice he usually used, and not in the least submissive. This time, it was a deep, velvety murmur, and Greg shivered at the sound. “Come on, fuck me!”

Lying half on top of the other man, Greg managed to open Will’s jeans and pull them off. The boy’s clever fingers had Greg’s own trousers and shirt open in no time and pulled insistently until Greg was completely naked, Will’s own shirt was gone just as fast and Greg could relish the feeling of warm, naked skin beneath him, curled into him, thin, smooth legs crossed behind his back while they kissed again.

“I don’t...my lube and condoms are in my jacket pocket.”

“Well, mine are a little closer, if you don’t mind.” Greg chuckled at the slightly baffled expression on Will’s face and left his embrace for a moment to open his bedside drawer and get the tube of lubricant and a condom.

“What do you have those for? You know I always have some...oh, god, yes…”

Greg moved a slick finger in and out of Will’s tight entrance, somehow pleased that he wasn’t prepared as he was on other nights. So he hadn’t been working today at all.

“What do you think, hm? In case you happen to be here, maybe?”

Rocking his hips while Greg fingered him open with two fingers now, Will replied: “Well, maybe you bought them in case you found some cute guy at the pub who likes silver foxes such as yourself.” His eyes were closed and his face relaxed, but he was very obviously teasing.

While adding a third finger, Greg massaged the younger man’s perineum with his thumb, eliciting a sigh from the plush lips. “No, I had you in mind when I bought them.” 

Will chuckled, eyes still closed. “That’s very sweet of you, but you know that it’s my job to carry both…”

“It’s not your job anymore. Remember? There’s a bank card on my coffee table that will probably hold any amount you might need. These days are over. You don’t have to go and earn money this way tomorrow, or ever again. You’re not a prostitute anymore, you’re just a normal man. A remarkable young man, I should say. And very definitely  _ not _ a hooker.”

The young man stared at Greg for a moment, his body gone completely still. “You’re right,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe it yet. And in his defence, he had only quit his job about twenty minutes ago. Maybe it would take some time to get used to the feeling again. Will actually laughed a small, relieved laugh. “You’re right,” he repeated.

Halting his movements, Greg let his hands rest on Will’s body. “Do you want me to stop?”

“And why should you do that?” Will asked, sounding perplexed.

Greg shrugged. “You looked like you were having a moment. I don’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re not. I told you to fuck me, and we’re not making any progress here, so would you mind?” There was a strange spark of humour in the boy’s eyes, and a hint of euphoric exuberance.

Grinning at the younger man, Greg went back to gently opening Will up. “Your wish is my command.”

“Ha! We’ll see about that,” said Will cockily, and opened his legs even wider, so that everything was on display beautifully. 

Briefly, Greg wondered how it had taken absolutely no time at all to get used to this picture, which was, after all, quite a bit different from what he had been used to for the last twenty years. He still wouldn’t identify as gay or even bi. Other men didn’t interest him, no matter what they looked like. He still peeked at attractive women and liked what he saw. And yet, Will was the only one he wanted in his bed these days. He lowered his lips onto Will’s stomach and kissed and licked around the navel while his hands still worked his partner open.

Will moaned at the touches, the kisses and the stretching, obviously enjoying himself thoroughly. After a few minutes, the young man pushed Greg’s hands and head away and sat up.

“Enough of the niceties.” He grabbed the condom Greg had left on the duvet, ripped it open and rolled it down his partner’s length. With quick fingers, he slicked it up and then crawled onto Greg’s lap. There was no sign that he would relinquish control any time soon, and Greg found he quite liked that new side of Will. It wasn’t really dominant, just very...demanding.

As Will sank down on Greg’s cock, both men groaned and gasped with lust. The young man, however, didn’t lose any time, and at once began to ride Greg with relish while holding on to his broad shoulders.

If Greg had ever thought that he’d seen all of Will’s masks slip, he now discovered that he’d probably been wrong. Will’s eyes were closed and his face a picture of lust, warped with pleasure. His mouth stood open, and those pretty lips were moving with filthy words and heady exclamations. Greg had often heard Will moan or cry out in ecstasy, but never with such abandon as he did now. There were hard, sharp gasps and mewls and keening, and Will rode him so hard and fast that the older man found it difficult not to come right away. It seemed that for once, Will only thought of his own pleasure, and Greg couldn’t blame him at all. He only tried to keep up and give Will what he needed.

“Fuck!” the young man gasped. “Ah, yes! Kiss my neck! Grab my hair with your hands!”

If it hadn’t been so utterly, mind-blowingly sexy, Greg might have chuckled a bit. But instead, he obeyed happily. It seemed Will had finally remembered that he could want things from his partner, too, or maybe it was only now that he felt it was okay to voice what he needed during sex.

“Pull my hips to you,” Will demanded, and rolled his lap on Greg’s. He was fisting his own cock, shamelessly jerking himself off. “God, yes!”

Greg was panting by now. “Please, honey, slow down a bit? I need a moment if you want this to go on for a bit,” he whispered, but Will shook his head vigorously.

“I’m nearly there, don’t you stop now! Ah…” For a moment, the boy did slow down, and leaned his forehead against Greg’s, but without stopping the movement of his hips completely. “Say my name when you come? My other name.” He looked into Greg’s eyes, blue on brown, and for the first time, Greg registered how beautiful those eyes really were, and that they weren’t just blue at all. Greg smiled and nodded, and Will snapped his hips, taking up speed again, and within a second, Greg knew that he couldn’t last. 

He pulled the skinny hips closer, almost wrestling with the other man and felt muscles clench around his length. He couldn’t help it, he fell over the edge then and there.

“God, yes! Sherlock!  _ Fuck! _ ” he rasped, and thrust into the hot body on his lap without a trace of restraint.

Greg only heard the young man’s breath hitch before a warm wetness spread between them and a wailing sound tore from his partner’s throat. Maybe it was the heat of the moment, but the boy kept writhing on Greg’s cock for quite a few long seconds before he seemed to be able to get a grip on himself.

“You,” he gasped, kissing Greg’s chapped lips, “You’re wonderful.” He kissed him again, still overwhelmed, it seemed. Both men were panting hard.

Greg grinned up at the breathless, beautiful creature on his lap. “Is that what you’d like to be called from now on? Sherlock? I’m all for it that you leave Will behind.”

The young man took another deep breath and smiled radiantly while carding his hair out of his eyes with his fingers. “I think...yes, I think I do.”

Greg pressed another kiss to the boy’s lips. “Well, then, Sherlock Holmes, I’m afraid I must inform you that you look rather thoroughly fucked, and that you should probably take a bath.” He flicked a finger through the mess on Sherlock’s stomach, and the young man actually giggled a little.

“You’re such a pervert.”

“Didn’t you say, when we met, that you know that I’m not a pervert?” Greg asked brightly.

Sherlock smiled and slowly got up from Greg’s lap. “You weren’t, then. At least you didn’t know it, so I couldn’t, either, could I?”

Playfully, Greg slapped Sherlock’s shoulder and got up to go to the bathroom with the young man to clean up. “That’s such a load of rubbish. No, don’t even try, no more excuses. Shoo, bathroom, now.” He noticed Sherlock dawdling on purpose, so he slapped his bottom, too, and Sherlock chuckled, but sped up his steps a bit.

“Bath?”

“If you join me,” Sherlock answered, smiling alluringly.

“Don’t you think I’m a little old for this? You know, bathing together, snogging by candlelight and stuff?”

“Nobody said anything about candles, really. Although I’d be willing to try that.”

“Try what?”

Sherlock merely smiled cockily, and turned on the taps to fill the bathtub. “If we keep going like this, you’ll need some decent bath essences.” He giggled childishly. “Mycroft will be fuming when he sees my shopping list.”

“Don’t get into trouble with him,” Greg warned, but Sherlock shook his head.

“Don’t you deprive me of the chance to make him furious. Besides, if Mycroft has anything in abundance, other than his monstrous ego, it’s money. He’ll be scandalised but he won’t be cross about the money itself. You go first,” he added, and gestured for Greg to get into the tub. The older man obeyed and sat down in the hot water, followed by Sherlock, who leaned his skinny back against Greg’s chest.

“You need to eat more, darling,” Greg remarked, and kissed Sherlock’s neck.

Sherlock shivered. “Don’t...please don’t call me that. Don’t let this get too domestic. We’re not a couple, and I told you I didn’t want to be.”

“Sorry. Heat of the moment,” Greg apologised. Right. Don’t lose yourself in this. He’s not yours.

Sherlock nodded, appeased, and relaxed against Greg’s body again. He took the older man’s hand and let it brush lazily over his own, pale abdomen. Greg caught on and started washing the boy with his hands, gliding them over the flat stomach and chest. It felt for all the world like a very domestic embrace, and maybe Sherlock noticed that, because he took hold of Greg’s hand again, pulled it to his cock and squeezed Greg’s fingers as a sign to close them around it, and Greg did.

“You can’t possibly be horny again,” he murmured into Sherlock’s ear, and the boy chuckled.

“You have no idea. Of course I can be. And I am. Please, go on?”

Greg sighed, maybe a little jealous of the boy’s stamina, and began to move his hand on Sherlock’s cock, jerking him off slowly. It did take a few minutes for the young man to get hard again, but before long, he was pressed against his partner’s chest, his body half lifted out of the water, eyes closed, and whining with lust as he came a second time that day.

“God,” he huffed, sinking back into the warm water and rubbing his skin and Greg’s fingers to clean both up again, “Sex is great. If I spend even more time with you, I might actually get addicted to this and become a dumb, happy guy. My brain would probably just give up at some point.” Sherlock got up and out of the tub, and started to dry himself off vigorously.

“Be a shame,” Greg murmured, and followed. There was indeed a hint of  _ obsession _ to Sherlock, he appeared not only satisfied and at ease but also a bit...manic. Greg shoved the thought aside. It had been a tough day for the boy, and he had just gotten his personal freedom back, so to speak. He had every right to enjoy himself thoroughly for once, and Greg should probably be happy that Sherlock did so with him and nobody else. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it would. Which is why I should probably stop spreading my legs for you at every chance I get. But as of now, it’s much too delicious.” The boy grinned and went off to the bedroom, leaving Greg to trail behind him.

When he had described the concept of something bordering on two different personalities, Greg had thought it was more like a metaphor, but Sherlock really seemed to be even haughtier, even more arrogant than Will, full of himself, egoistic, manic, and frightfully bright. 

That much became clear in the next few hours, while they had dinner and talked a bit, but at the very latest when Sherlock spotted a few files on Greg’s desk that the officer had brought home with him. Greg had been in the kitchen, rinsing their teacups, when the younger man had found them. When Greg came back, he found Sherlock lounging on his chair at the desk, reading.

“Hey, you can’t…”

“Why do you bring those home with you? They’re blatantly obvious.”

“I...what? No, they’re not.”

“Of course they are, it’s all here, don’t tell me you can’t see…” Sherlock stared up at Greg, who by now was standing next to him. “You can’t see it, can you?”

“See  _ what _ ?” Greg asked, annoyed.

Sherlock smiled, which annoyed Greg even more. “You can’t see. But I can still see. My brain is not that dead yet, then. Look here, those shoeprints you have all been relying on, they have absolutely nothing to do with the case, they’re very deep in the mud and the mud is too dry at that stage, those prints were made long before your victim was killed there. What you want to look at is that little splash of paint there on his jacket…”

Greg stared at the young man while he explained about the whole case, and the next, and the next, until all five files  lay open on Greg’s desk, solved as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world.

“You really do deserve your name, that’s for sure and certain,” Greg huffed.

Sherlock looked smug. “It wasn’t that hard.”

“Well, yes it was. We didn’t solve those. Until now.”

“I can see that the cases are not originally yours, but you have made some notes here and there. They were good, better than the ideas your colleague had.”

“Well, obviously they weren’t good enough, or I’d have found the solution.”

“You were nearly there in three out of five cases. Ever thought of becoming a Detective Inspector?” Will asked and scrutinised Greg’s face. The older man wasn’t sure if he was being teased.

“That’s a position you earn because you’re good,” Greg said, waving the thought away. Not that he didn’t want it; he liked the idea very much, had done so for many years. But now he felt that he simply didn’t have the energy to pursue that post any more, even less so because a young drug addict had just done a better job than his whole department at the Yard.

But Sherlock shook his head. “You  _ are _ good. You’re a lot better than any of the colleagues who have been working on those cases, too.”

“You could solve them, I couldn’t, I would think that doesn’t recommend me for the job much, does it?” Greg bit out.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I am beyond that scale. It’s nothing special for me to solve things like these, but it’s remarkable that you came that far. I suppose the cases were quite hard in the end, for a normal intellect.”

Greg huffed.

“Oh come on, Lestrade, don’t pout. Take those with you and see if I’m right. Which I am.  And now, I suggest we go to bed. Bring some new cases home with you tomorrow so I can have a look? And this time, before you take me.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock is being difficult and cruel. Greg is fed up, until he finds out the simple reason.  
> Drama and a little heartbreak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooop, back from London! Thank you guys so much for all your kudos and comments!!! It definitely helped with my coming-back-blues. (No I'm not glad to be back, 'cause it's not home before it says something something UK on my ID card.)  
> As I'm having difficulty with the end of the story - too abrupt for my taste - AND a severe case of writer's block, I'm going to draw out posting the rest a little more. Any ideas and prompts - give them here! I feel like a fish out of water, I hate not being able to write!
> 
> Anyway, enough of the moaning, off you go, have fun with the next chapter!

Their new arrangement, Greg thought, was not actually that different from their beginnings, technically. Although soon, their personal relationship was. And Greg hated it.

Sure, Sherlock wasn’t a streetwalker anymore, but he still came over to Greg to get something from him, only it was cases instead of money now, and when Sherlock was practically brimming with smugness about how clever he was, they usually had sex. 

Even though the sex in itself was still fantastic, only a bit more than a week after Greg’s meeting with Mycroft, Sherlock seemed distant, before, during and after, as if it wasn’t so much Greg’s company that he enjoyed anymore but the chance to get off, no matter with whom. 

For the next few weeks, Sherlock became more and more arrogant, and, if there was no case, so moody that a bitching teenager would have paled next to him. It wasn’t that Greg expected Sherlock to be submissive in bed, or at any time at all, but even in bed, the young man behaved like a stroppy child most of the time, demanding and egoistic. Greg refused to believe that their emotional connection, even if it had ‘just’ been a sort of friendship, had all been the work of his imagination, but he could also see clearly that it was thinning out, to say the least. While Sherlock had liked Greg’s company, his kindness and understanding at the beginning, he didn’t seem to care about Greg now, at all. More than once, Greg was close to slapping the other man across the face for his arrogance, but he held back. He wasn’t violent as such, even if Sherlock had definitely woken a new side in him when he had introduced him to playing. Not that Sherlock was interested in playing anymore. They might still start off with Sherlock asking ‘daddy’ to fuck him, but he wouldn’t allow Greg any real control, constantly told him what to do and what not to do, and finished whenever he wanted. At first, Greg had thought that the younger man wanted to be punished or reprimanded, but Sherlock had begun to regularly safe-word his way out of this, and Greg had sworn to himself that he’d never disregard that. A few times, Sherlock was so focussed on himself that he didn’t seem to care if Greg had even enjoyed it, and got up to go to the bathroom to clean up, leaving the other man aghast, almost shocked, and one night even still wanting. 

Greg got more and more cross with the young man, but even more than that, he felt sad. Yes, maybe he had fallen for the guy when he shouldn’t have. And he definitely got a lot of positive attention at work for solving so many cases so brilliantly, even though he always said that he had help. Still, he felt that Will had been a lot nicer than Sherlock, and that there was everything wrong about the self-absorbed and somehow absent-minded attitude Sherlock displayed these days. And all the time, Greg asked himself what had gone so wrong so suddenly.

 

It was the middle of January when Greg finally had enough. 

The doorbell had rung, not, as it had done in the good old days at around seven, but at half past nine at night.

“Please tell me you have an interesting case today. These last few were a waste of time.” The man swished past him.

“Nice to see you, too.” Greg closed the door.

Sherlock had already thrown off his new coat and was scanning the files on Greg’s desk. He huffed. “Hardly worth my time. An idiot could solve these cases. I’m not touching those. Your department can use their own brains for a change. This is positively beneath me.” He turned and sat on the armrest of the sofa, tugging Greg closer by his wrists. “Suppose we can jump right to the sex-part of the evening.”

“No.”

Sherlock blinked. “What do you mean, no?” After a moment of uncertainty, the young man started smiling. An ugly smile, Greg thought. False. “Don’t say you’re not in the mood today. I know you  _ always _ want me.”

“I do. And I still say no. Actually, I think I’d prefer it if you’d go.” Greg tried to keep his voice measured and calm, but he wasn’t sure if it worked.

“Go?” Sherlock asked, unsympathetically, “ _ Go? _ Me? Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed, but it was a cold, arrogant sound. Greg had heard it loads of times in the past few weeks, and it kept hurting, more and more.

“I’m not being ridiculous. I want you to go.”

“Pff, are you in one of your moods? Need me to do a bit of begging first, yeah? Very well…” Sherlock got up and stood close to Greg, smiling the fake smile he had used when Greg was still paying for the pleasure of his company. It had once been difficult to spot, but now it was clear as day that it was nothing more than a mask. The young man reached out and started to unbutton Greg’s shirt. “Come on, daddy.”

The older man pushed the pale fingers away. “Stop that.”

“Ah, don’t be like that,” the younger man purred, and Greg saw an image flash before his mind’s eye, and was suddenly certain that Will had experienced this situation at some point, but from Greg’s own perspective, and probably a lot less able to say ‘stop that’. Greg, however, could say it. And he did. A few times. Sherlock didn’t seem to listen and kept unbuttoning Greg’s clothes. Not only was it annoying, it was also a bit scary. Even though Greg knew he could easily fight off the younger but weaker man, he felt uneasy about being touched like this, like he had no say in this. Again, Greg felt that Sherlock had probably been in this situation the other way round, with someone undressing him, and feeling the discomfort rise in his chest as he noticed that a ‘no’ didn’t have any effect. Still, that didn’t give the younger man any right to do the same.

“What the fuck, Sherlock? Get your hands off me!” Greg shouted at the younger man while shoving him away, and he finally saw a crack in the absent-minded mask Sherlock had worn for almost a month now. It seemed that the young man really  _ saw _ him for the first time in weeks. 

Sherlock halted his movements. “What is it?”

“Bloody... _ what is it _ ? Are you really asking me that?”

“Yes, I am,” Sherlock said, still haughty, but also maybe a tad uncertain.

“Jesus, you’ve been treating me like I’m not even there for the last three to four weeks, and you’re barging in here, complain about the cases and then expect sex. Just like that.”

“I’ve let you fuck me almost every day, I wouldn’t say that counts as me ignoring you.”

“ _ Let _ me...tell me you’re joking! You’ve taken your pleasure in the last few weeks as you pleased. I didn’t matter, you could have gone to anyone. You didn’t even talk to me properly. All you’ve done those last few weeks was come here, later and later every day, then you’d rattle off stuff about the cases, gloat and expect me to fuck you while constantly telling me what to do. You were selfish and egoistic about it, I didn’t matter at all, you took whatever you wanted, got up, rushed to the bathroom and either you were asleep or gone twenty minutes later. So don’t tell me that  _ you let me fuck you _ , because it was pretty much the opposite, you used me like a  _ thing _ . It was important to you that  _ you _ got off. I didn’t matter,” Greg repeated, feeling stupid and angry.

Sherlock’s face was a picture of conflicting emotions for a second more, before he seemed to shut down completely. He took a step backwards and smiled coldly. “You’re talking like you  _ ever _ mattered.”

Greg felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, all air seemed to be pressed out of his lungs, numbness spread through his limbs. “Out.”

Sherlock kept grinning in that horrible way, and straightened up to his full height. “I know what’s going on. You’d probably prefer it if it went like it did at the beginning, when everything was for  _ your _ pleasure, where you paid me to be docile and do everything you could dream of. That’s what you miss, don’t you?”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it! I was perfectly fine with everything when we both liked it and when we were close.”

“We were never close, Lestrade,” Sherlock jeered. “What you can’t cope with is that you’re now in the role I had; being used by someone else for their pleasure, and not getting anything out of it.”

“Hey! Don’t make me pay for everything any other client ever did to you! You know perfectly well that I loathed the fact that I paid you, and that I always tried to make it as good as possible for you.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be the first thing you fail at, would it?”

Greg felt horrified, angry, ashamed and sad. He knew Sherlock, with his talent for psychology, was pushing all his buttons in such a way that it would hurt as much as possible. It didn’t hurt less just because he knew that. He could only stare at the younger man, who was by now sliding into his coat.

“You let emotions get the better of you, Lestrade. I told you, we’re not lovers, or even friends. And since you went to Mycroft to rescue poor Me from the streets and the prostitution and the drugs, you’re not even my client anymore.”

And with a swish of his coat, Sherlock left.

  
  


To say that Greg was distraught would have been a mild understatement. He had expected a kind of breakdown, but instead, everything seemed somehow muted. Whatever this fight had been, it had snuck up on him without warning. Everything had been going fine, at least from Greg’s point of view, from the beginning, up to a point sometime after Greg had paid Mycroft a visit. Greg shivered to think that some of the things Sherlock had said might have been true. But they weren’t, were they? Sherlock and said all of it only to hurt him. But why? Why would Sherlock hurt him? Or why would he want him to hurt?

Greg caught himself lying awake with this question buzzing through his head, night after night after night. What had he done to Sherlock that had made the man lash out so brutally?

Greg rolled over in his bed. His cold, empty bed. It had been a fortnight since the fight with Sherlock, and Greg was still lying awake like a lovesick teenager, mulling over the same questions. The more he thought about it, the colder and emptier his bed felt. He hadn’t realised how much the thought of Sherlock coming over and sleeping next to him had consoled him after his divorce. Curiously, his ex-wife was nowhere in his head. She was gone, and Greg regretted it in the way one might regret not kissing that girl twentyfive years ago. Sherlock leaving hurt much more, because it had been sudden and painful and completely unnecessary. Sherlock had said many times that Greg had helped him, that he liked him very much, and that he enjoyed himself with him. During the fight, Sherlock had told him the complete opposite. To make him hurt.

Greg thought back to the very first night they had spent in this bed together.

‘A few people are mean and horrible because they  _ can _ , because they like the feeling of having power over another living thing, that they have the power to make someone feel even more pathetic than they feel themselves.’

Sherlock had said that, and it fit perfectly, except Sherlock had no reason to feel pathetic, had he? He was off the streets and not a street worker anymore. 

‘But he’s not off the drugs, probably,’ said a niggling voice in his head. ‘The money he lives on comes from a brother he hates, and your cases are the only thing that makes him feel like he’s good at something else than breathing. Well, made. He doesn’t have anything to keep that brilliant brain occupied now, does he? A drug trip is probably the only thing that could keep him from dying of boredom. He’s the sort of man who would feel pathetic about that. And some people who feel pathetic want to make other people feel more pathetic to make themselves feel better…’

Greg turned on his back and stared at the ceiling. That was probably the whole solution of Sherlock’s arrogance, of why Sherlock had pushed him away so suddenly. At the very moment where Greg had thought that the hardest part of helping Sherlock was over, Sherlock had seen himself confronted with even more problems. He still needed help.

The police officer had no idea where Sherlock lived these days, though. Sherlock had never told him. Mycroft would probably know, but Sherlock’s older brother had made it abundantly clear after he had heard of the fight that anything Greg would have to say was not welcome, thank you very much. Not welcome as in, if you ever say one word to me again you will regret it.

Greg turned again. Sherlock’s pride was infinite. He would never turn up on Greg’s doorstep again and just say hello, I’m sorry. Greg would probably just have to wait until Sherlock materialised in his close proximity. Which was, in London, as likely as meeting a rhino in the tube.

 

A week later, Greg was called to a crime scene in South London. It took half the night until all the teams were through but Greg had done nothing useful all the time. His colleagues had left him to his own devices. Everyone knew that Greg was normally married to his work, and they also knew that his divorce was not that far back and that there must have been some sort of romantic entanglement that was, quite obviously, at an end already. Which meant that everyone pitied him a little and left him alone when they saw him slacking for the first time in ten years.

Greg gazed around the empty streets. Everyone was packing up. Most of his colleagues had gone home. More out of boredom and insomnia than anything else, Greg got up and went to scan the side streets, for a better overview, he told himself.

He had walked halfway around the whole block when he saw a tiny movement around the next corner. It was probably nothing, but Greg sped up his steps a little to catch up with whatever old newspaper this was. There was a clink of an empty bottle on the pavement. Alright, no newspaper, and by the way, going off alone in a dark alley around a crime scene was stupid for a cop. First semester, everyone knew that. Carefully, Greg waited around the corner. There was another, very loud clink of glass, further down the next alley, and Greg peeked around the brick wall. Nothing to see, just a glass bottle rolling around on the cobblestones at the other end of the small pass between the houses and a load of rubbish heaped up on both sides of the alley. Greg started to sneak through the alley, ears straining, gun ready in his hand by now, but he heard nothing. Halfway, he stopped, thinking. The second bottle had been very loud, it could have been someone stumbling across it in haste, and had left it, running off. But he hadn’t heard any running, and the very loud clatter had actually sounded more like the bottle had been thrown rather than simply knocked over. Greg turned, listening intently. A minute passed, and another minute, and even though nothing was moving, he was absolutely certain that there was someone close by.

“You know, judging from my surroundings, waiting will be much more comfortable for me than for you. How about you come out and we have a little chat?” It was a shot in the literal dark. Come on, Greg thought, come on…

Something rustled lightly to his right, and Greg pointed the gun in the direction of the noise.

“I never thought I’d see a day where I see you with a gun and hope you’ll shoot me accidentally.”

Greg’s nerves may have been trained thoroughly, but he still winced before he let the hand with the gun sink and breathed a sigh of relief. He’d know that voice anywhere.

“Jesus, Sherlock, what are you doing here?!” A tall, thin figure in an old blue jacket materialised from the shadows around the pile of garbage. 

“Looking at your crime scene. And hiding properly this time, at least until you saw me. Not as good as I used to be.”

“How did you know it was my crime scene? Or, more accurately, that I’d be here? There must be a dozen crime scenes in London at any given moment.”

Sherlock shrugged. “I know things.”

“So I’ve noticed.” Greg took a step towards Sherlock. The young man had the hood drawn over his head, but his face was half visible even in the darkness.

“God, you look like hell.”

“I feel like it, too.”

Sherlock didn’t make any attempt to run away, so Greg stepped a little closer and, with careful, slow movements, removed Sherlock’s hood so he could see him better. The man was impossibly thin, his cheekbones much too prominent, and there were dark circles under his eyes, which looked manic and incredibly tired. And even that face seemed to be a mask that was slowly cracking; Sherlock had to be even worse than he looked, which was some horrible achievement. His hands were trembling, as was his lower lip, until he managed to control his thin body again, at least for a minute.

“What happened?” Greg asked, saddened by what he saw.

“What do you think. I tried to fight through withdrawal from cocaine. I had a few relapses, though. I can’t do it alone. I don’t have enough self-discipline.” The normally beautiful voice sounded strained. “Mycroft has frozen my account again. I had a bit of a nest egg, but that’s pretty much gone. Another few days and...” Sherlock looked up at Greg, with his head half bowed. There was a hint of fear in those eyes. “I don’t want to go back to...how I made a living, before.”

“You should have come to me,” Greg chided softly. This picture of misery before him made his heart ache.

Sherlock shook his head. His chestnut hair was oily and flat. “You threw me out. And I deserved it, I was so horrible to you,” he added, when Greg started to say something. “But somehow I couldn’t come back and apologise. I just couldn’t.”

“Thought as much. Will you come with me now and let me help?”

The man huffed. “I’ve let you help me once. Look how I turned out. Not that it’s your fault.” Sherlock looked away.

Greg took a step towards the young man, reaching out and brushing his hand over the dirty blue sleeve of the thin jacket. “Well, I thought you were okay then, but you weren’t. You said those things because you felt bad, didn’t you?”

Sherlock nodded. “It still wasn’t okay, though.”

“No, no it wasn’t.” There was a minute of silence. “So do you want to come back? I would like you to, you know. Come with me?”

After another minute of staring, Sherlock nodded carefully.

Greg huffed with relief. “Come, I’ll get you through that withdrawal, and if it kills us both. I just need to know that you really want it.” Greg reached out with his hand and clamped it around Sherlock’s as soon as the man had stepped close enough.

The boy grabbed the older man’s hand, too.“You can’t begin to imagine how much I want it and how much I don’t want it. I feel horrible. I want to stop feeling horrible.” 

“Well, let’s try that out.”

On the way to Greg’s car, Sherlock leaned on the older man. “I want you to know that nothing of what I said that night was the truth. You matter very much, and I don’t think you miss paying me, and I’m fully aware that I was an egoistic arse and, and...and you never failed to make it good for me, either,” he added, almost shyly. “You were so good to me, and I felt like every day that I was feeling even more miserable, I was being ungrateful, because I wasn’t getting better, really, though I might have looked better on the outside.”

Greg could hear that Sherlock was forcing the words out, like he would normally refuse to say them but knew he had to.

“Thanks for saying that.”

“And now I’m wasting your time again,” Sherlock said apologetically.

Greg shook his head. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you, do you? I don’t know what you perceive my life to be like, but at the very least, it’s dreadfully lonely and empty without you in it.”

“It is?”

Sherlock’s voice was such an adorable mix of incredulity and smugness that Greg chuckled and put an arm around the younger man. Sherlock came as close as he could, like a cat that has finally decided to stop pretending to hate its owner.

“It is, baby,” Greg said, bravely using the pet name he normally only used while playing.

The young man looked quite happy, all things considered. “I can’t wait to sleep in your bed again, I’m so unbelievably tired,” Sherlock purred.

“I’m looking forward to it, too, but I’m afraid you’re in for a bath first.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock's on withdrawal. Greg is a saint. Mostly. Sherlock asks a few questions that move him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *kicks down door* Yuletide cheer to one and all!  
> Yes, that there beside me is an almost empty bottle of cherry mead, yes, my kitchen smells of sugar SO MUCH that it's sickening, but hey, gotta cook fudge for the whole family so what the hell, yes I should have been in bed some time ago, SCREW IT I'M POSTING THE NEXT CHAPTER!
> 
> Have fun! Love you so much!

Taking care of Sherlock while he was on withdrawal was harder than Greg had thought it would be, and after the things Sherlock had said during their last confrontation, Greg was prepared for some tough things.

When they had come home that night, he had hardly gotten Sherlock to eat anything, even though the boy said he was hungry, and he wouldn’t lie down, either, even though he groaned about how tired he was. Greg knew that withdrawal often came with conflicting emotions. When he had actually managed to stay in bed, Sherlock told Greg how restlessness, tiredness and insomnia fought inside him, just like hunger warred with nausea and depression kept a tight grip on him at all times. Around morning, Sherlock finally fell into a restless sleep, and Greg tried the same. At about seven, Sherlock started moaning with a terrible headache.

Greg stayed home that day, and the next, and finally, the whole week. 

All time spent with Sherlock during that week  was generally unpleasant; Sherlock swore a lot, called his host a whole range of foul names and moaned and complained all the time, even in his sleep. Three days in, the young man developed a sudden fever. It broke only a day later, but it left the boy even more exhausted than he had already been, anyway. Greg was exhausted, too, but he had sworn to himself that this time, he’d do this properly. There were a lot of unpleasantries to deal with, certainly, from the name-calling to the sweat-soaked sheets at night, and worse, but Greg held on, knowing he was only going through a fraction of Sherlock’s misery. After a week, the shouting and swearing died down and was replaced by quiet depressed hours and a lot of nighttime crying on Sherlock’s part. Greg held him through it, or sat on the bed next to the shivering, thin body and tried to soothe him. Those hours always left Sherlock even more exhausted, but at least he was able to sleep properly by now. On the whole, Greg thought, every time Sherlock had a minor (or major) meltdown, he should actually have been surprised that he hadn’t noticed the state Sherlock was in much sooner. And judging by the screaming and kicking he had to endure now, Sherlock’s verbal cruelty from a few weeks ago seemed almost tame. Now. however, Sherlock always did seem sorry when his episodes were over. And this time, at least, Greg knew it wasn’t Sherlock’s fault.

 

It took nine days for the young man to detox, but finally, one morning, Greg woke up to find Sherlock sleeping peacefully next to him. Reaching out, he allowed himself a moment of weakness and pushed a few strands of ebony hair away from the other man’s eyes. They hadn’t touched for any form of tenderness these last few days, or, actually, even longer now. There had been a lot of comforting on Greg’s side, and a lot of wordless pleas for forgiveness on Sherlock’s, but it had been a long, long time since they’d touched when they both felt good and relaxed.

A low hum came from Sherlock’s chest, indicating that the young man was more awake than he seemed.

“Sleep well?”

“Better ‘n last week, anyway. Keep doing that.”

Greg sat up against the headboard to prevent himself from falling asleep again, and let his fingers run through Sherlock’s dark hair over and over. Sherlock hummed again and after a few minutes, he began to inch closer until he could rest his head on Greg’s upper thigh. The young man lay still for a minute, and then let a hand creep up the police officer’s legs.

“Sherlock,” Greg chided gently, “This is the first day where you don’t look like shit, you need to rest. No excursions.”

Sherlock huffed, sounding annoyed, but he stopped and pulled away.

They got up and took a shower - together as usual, just to make sure the boy was okay, Greg told himself, smiling. Again, Sherlock tried to initiate something, but once more, Greg refused as gently as he could, knowing how frail the boy’s psyche was at the moment.

After the shower, they had breakfast, and the young man even ate as much a normal human being would.

“Good to see you feel better.”

“It’s not gone, but it really does feel a lot better.” Sherlock sipped his tea greedily. Drinking water, at least, had been something Greg hadn’t needed to pester him about. Probably because he’d been sweating and crying incessantly and he’d be parched and shrivelled if he hadn’t had at least that much common sense. “Thank you. For helping me. And not going mad with me here.”

“You mean, for not wringing your skinny little neck,” Greg said, with no real malice in his voice.

“You loved my neck.” Sherlock smiled gently. “You always used to kiss it when we slept together.”

“That sounds very tame. It also sounds as if you’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve stopped loving your neck, and that we won’t sleep together anymore,” the older man said calmly.

“Well, you’re constantly pushing me away.” Sherlock shuffled a bit. “And it would probably be for the best...but...I’m sure I would miss it very much. I  _ do _ miss it very much.” The young man let his long, white fingers brush the back of Greg’s hand. “I don’t know about you, but when…if I wasn’t so weak now, you’d let me, wouldn’t you? It hasn’t been that long, but I still feel like the last time was ages ago. Before I was so...cold to you. What we had before the fight was...it was…”

“Stoic fucking,” Greg supplied helpfully.

Sherlock nodded. “It was sort of mechanical,” he admitted.

“What are you trying to say, Sherlock?”

“I don’t know, I… Look, I don’t want to hurt you. I know you have some sort of feelings for me, and allowing that affair between us to continue will probably hurt you at some point. But I’m selfish, so I want to keep you. It’s probably another unhealthy coping mechanism of mine, but…” Sherlock took Greg’s hand without looking at him. “Technically, I’ve had so much sex in the last few years that it should be enough for a lifetime, but of course, I didn’t enjoy that. But with you...it’s like my body is remembering only now that it can be good. So I wanted a lot of it. It’s almost like a new addiction, and I think that’s also why I wasn’t interested in much else than, as you called it, stoic fucking, a few weeks back. I can’t stand the thought that I can’t have you anymore. It’s a selfish thought, but I can’t help it. I’ll probably destroy you if you let me. Promise you won’t let me.” Sherlock glanced at Greg, then turned his eyes away again. 

Greg knew how hard it was for Sherlock to talk about anything concerning emotions, and he appreciated that he tried for him. He turned his hand in Sherlock’s and closed his fingers around the other man’s.

“I’ll try.”

Sherlock nodded. “So...what about you?”

“‘Bout what?”

There was a miniscule eyeroll. “Do you still want to sleep with me after you’ve seen me so low? And after you’ve heard yet again that there will be nothing between us? Or will you keep pushing me away?”

Greg smiled. “I’m also selfish, and you’re simply the sexiest, cleverest, most beautiful creature I’ve ever met. That in itself would be reason enough for some people to keep you. I don’t need to have a relationship with you to have you in my life. And I’ll always want you. I just want you to get better first.”

The younger man nodded thoughtfully, and smiled. “That’s very sweet of you. So in your eyes, I’m still too weak to have sex?” Sherlock got up and went to sit on Greg’s lap, but in a relatively chaste way.

“You probably are,” Greg answered, and tried to sound stern.

Sherlock ignored Greg’s answer and pressed a few open-mouthed kisses along the older man’s neck. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why me?” The boy looked up and focussed his eyes somewhere on Greg’s nose so he wouldn’t have to look him in the eyes. “You’re not into men. Why did you choose me that first night? There were female prostitutes around. You’d been married to a woman. And even though it was apparent from the first minute that you’d had a man before, it must have been a long time ago. So what made you decide you wanted me? And not only that night, you wanted me again after that. And you find me beautiful. I’d understand that if you’d look at other men that way, occasionally, but you show all the signs of being absolutely straight. And you still want me.”

Greg shrugged. “There’s not a whole lot of difference, after all. You’re just as moody as any girl.”

Sherlock huffed a laugh. “Maybe, but anatomically…I mean...I don’t have any female traits, and sleeping with a woman is quite different.”

“For you,” Greg answered, patting Sherlock’s backside on his knees with a dirty grin. “For me, not so much. You should know how it works; you’re either prepared to have a naked man’s body before you, or you’re not. And the rest, the things that matter, how different is it, really? Kissing and gentle touches and petting and working with your fingers, it doesn’t matter who you do it with. All the important things work just the same, the rest is details. You need to learn every partner first, and it doesn’t matter what kind of body it is, every single body is different, anyway.”

Sherlock leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder. “Well, it’s not so easy for everyone.”

“Is, for me. You said, when we met, that you’re into men, and into women, theoretically, right?”

“Well, yes, I think I could get attracted to women, but it’s still 90% theory. I didn’t mean me, though. I meant other men. They often seem to have a hard time accepting...men like me. There were times when I wished I was a woman, because some men are disgusted when they’re confronted with another man’s body. They feel uncomfortable touching a penis or having their fingers in places where they’d never touch a woman. For them, it’s filthy and they feel like their masculinity is somehow compromised, so they reject you.”

“Sounds like there was someone who once refused to sleep with you because you have a male body and he was used to women. And you wanted him and couldn’t have him.”

Sherlock curled in on himself a little, but didn’t answer.

“Sounds wrong to me, but I guess you can’t force attraction. I’m not any different in that respect.” Greg caressed the boy’s back with gentle fingers. “I have to admit, the thought of, well, entering a man’s body, or better, entering any body that way, takes some getting used to at the beginning, but it’s not like it’s the only way to do it. What I could really never understand was how men can feel insecure about touching another man’s dick, we all have one, so I don’t see what the bloody fuss is about.”

Sherlock snickered a little and snuggled closer. Hearing Greg talk seemed to help him with whatever internal crisis he was having.

“I like everything on you,” Greg said. “And you never have to wish you had a female body just because I was used to women all my life. In some ways, sleeping with you is almost easier. I’ve lived with a penis for over fourty years, I know how to get a man off.” He whispered the last into Sherlock’s ear, who squirmed weakly on Greg’s lap, but also let out a little laugh.

“What about other men?” the boy asked tentatively, after a minute of thoughtful silence..

“What other men?”

“Well, others. You never look at them, you’re not usually attracted to them. Sometimes I almost feel like an oddity.”

Greg chuckled and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s temple. “Although I don’t mind sleeping with one, I’m not that interested in men, true. But that doesn’t mean that you’re the weird little mishap. It’s more like you’re unique. A man who made such a deep impression on me that I want him although I normally wouldn’t. I didn’t choose your gender, I chose  _ you _ .”

Sherlock looked touched, but he seemed determined to get his answers. “Which brings me to my initial question: why did you choose me?”

Greg smiled. “I suppose because you were - are - a beguiling creature. I can’t actually remember much of it, but I remember your hair, your mouth and your eyes. And I just wanted you. Although I still wish we’d have met under different circumstances. Sometimes I still feel bad about...using you.”

The younger man smiled leniently and touched his forehead to Greg’s temple. “Forget that. Sleeping with you hasn’t been a job for me in a long time.” He mouthed along Greg’s stubbly jawline.

Tentatively, Greg let his free hand wander up Sherlock’s left leg and thigh. He could see that the other man was half hard in his pants. “Baby, you need to rest,” he said yet again, keeping his voice low and calm.

“I slept well tonight. I  _ am _ rested. And I’m not asking for a marathon. I just want a bit...only a little bit? I want to feel close to you again.” Sherlock’s tone was pleading, but still far from the submissive whine he sometimes used to try and break Greg’s resistance.

“We’re close, baby, and I really think we should wait another day or two…”

“But I don’t want to  _ wait _ . Tell me about the other men you’ve had?” he added, when Greg started another round of gentle protest. 

“Huh?”

“I wasn’t the first one, man, I mean. I’m sure of that. So tell me about him, or them. I’m quite sure there was more than one. I guess it was in your youth, and you thought of it as experimenting, am I right?”

Greg nodded while he looked the younger man over intently. By now, Greg knew Sherlock well enough that he could identify his moods for what they were. So he knew from his hungry look that, at the moment, Sherlock was halfway into headspace, but not quite there yet. Judging from the way he was palming himself through his boxer briefs, the boy was hoping that whatever Greg would tell him about his past would heat things up a bit.

“Now, who’s the pervert?” Greg smiled.

“I never said I’m not perverted, that would be an outright lie,” Sherlock protested at once.

“Yes, I’ve noticed that you have a filthy mind. But I like it. I like it a lot. Seems you’d like to touch yourself while I tell you my story?”

Sherlock’s hand twitched for a second. “Is that okay?”

“Sure, baby. But when you’re close…”

“I’ll wait until you say,” Sherlock rushed to assure the older man.

Greg would have liked to hug Sherlock to him, just because it finally felt right between them again.

Instead, he said sternly: “It’s not such an interesting story, anyway. Still. You mustn’t over-exert yourself. No trying to take this to the bedroom. You can touch yourself, but that’s it.”

“Yes, daddy,” Sherlock said obediently.

Nodding, Greg ruffled the boy’s hair to show he was pleased with the answer. Inwardly, he was, of course, burning to take this to the bedroom, but Sherlock’s body really did need to recover a little more. The young man had slept and eaten quite well, but he was still a little shaky, and Greg wouldn’t risk anything.

He tightened his hold around Sherlock as if the young man was indeed a child on his father’s lap, hearing a story. Greg knew that what they were doing was quite a perversion of that, but he had stopped worrying about that many months ago.

“Okay, let’s see…”

“How many were there?”

Greg threw the boy a sharp look. “It’s not polite to interrupt.”

Sherlock hung his head adorably. “Sorry, daddy. I’m just curious.”

“Hmm. It’s good to be curious, but you should never be rude. Now, since you asked, there were two before you. The first experiences I had with a man, or a boy, I should say...I think that must have been while I was at High School. But it wasn’t more than experimenting with the same gender. At some point, when you’ve mastered girls, you sometimes become a little adventurous.” Greg grinned at Sherlock’s baffled expression. “What? I wasn’t born a boring old man.”

“You’re not boring!” the young man protested vehemently, and Greg smiled, a little touched, and went on.

“Anyway, with that guy, it was more...exploring. You know, the way girls have their first french kiss with their best friend and such things? Something like that, only we never kissed, we jumped right to the handjobs. Far as I know, that’s not as unusual between mates as people would think, so he wasn’t bothered about the whole thing too much. He grew up to be quite a homophobic jerk, actually, although I got my first blowjob from him. I’d have liked to shove that fact down his throat, if you’ll excuse the bad pun, every time he mocked anyone for what he thought of as ‘gay behaviour’. It was disgusting. It’s like you said a few times, it’s like they have to re-establish their masculinity by being an arse. Haven’t seen him for fifteen years at the very least.”

The boy smirked. “Good for you. Please tell me that blowjob he gave you was underwhelming.”

Greg chuckled. “He wasn’t much good at it, no.”

“So I’m better?” Sherlock asked with a somewhat smug grin.

“Baby, nobody can compete with you when it comes to sucking cock,” Greg hummed into the boy’s ear, and Sherlock wriggled with barely-suppressed glee.

“Nobody? Not even some woman?”

“Nobody. You’re the best I’ve had.”

The younger man buzzed at the praise. “Tell me about the second one?”

Greg nodded. “The second one was better, though not as good as you.” The older man touched his index finger to the tip of Sherlock’s nose and smiled. “We were at uni together. Shared a room, actually. Contrary to the first one, he was really very gay. He was fine with experimenting a bit. And I did learn a lot from him. I think he quite enjoyed it, teaching me things.” The police officer grinned. “How to give a really good handjob, and give good head, for example.” Greg lightly caressed the younger man’s cock through the fabric of his pants, like he was stroking a pet.

Sherlock whined a little. “The mere mental picture of you giving a blowjob…”

“You never let me, baby,” Greg reminded the young man. “I dare say you’d enjoy yourself.”

“I’d like to...but I want to get tested again, first.” The young man looked worried, but Greg would have none of it now, so he kissed him thoroughly to take his mind off things, starting at the plush lips and ending up with his teeth lightly scraping over the curve of Sherlock’s neck.

The boy sighed happily. “Did he teach you that, too? Kissing like that?”

Greg was thrilled when he felt goosebumps under his fingertips wherever he touched the boy.

“Baby, I’ve always been a great kisser, it didn’t need my roommate to teach me that. Would you like to hear more?” Greg let his fingers trace circles on Sherlock’s thighs, dangerously close to his crotch. He probably shouldn’t, but Sherlock wasn’t the only one who had gone without for weeks.

Sherlock hummed, his head laid back and his eyes closed. “Please, daddy.”

“Alright. At the beginning, even though we lived in the same room, we used to meet somewhere on campus, outside or in some building, in a bathroom or the locker rooms of the gym, when we expected we could be alone but couldn’t be quite sure.  If we’d been caught, I don’t know what would have happened. It wasn’t exactly illegal, but it wasn’t allowed, either. We never did it in our room, until one night, when we were both in bed already and had just turned off the lights, he asked me if he could come join me in my bed. It was an unusual request for him, but I figured, why not, and I let him in. I remember how nice it felt to have his warmth pressed against me. He snuggled up to me and after a few minutes where he was horribly tense, he started kissing me. He asked if I’d allow him to take whatever it was that we had a step further, if I’d be willing to try something more. I said yes, because, hell, it was exciting. It really doesn’t matter how much experience you have; if you’re not completely dulled, every first time with someone is mind-blowingly exciting. My memories are a little blurred by that excitement, but I remember he had us both naked in under a minute and was lying on top of me, and rutted against me, and it was the single most erotic thing I’d ever experienced up to that point, I can tell you. Having him like this was...absolutely marvellous. The sounds he made, and the feeling of his skin, it was amazing. Completely different from what we had done up to that point, and I have to admit, I didn’t mind one bit that he came into my bed almost every other night after that. I remember we used to pull the blanket over our heads until the heat underneath got stifling and we could hardly breathe, but that was part of what was so exciting. The feeling of being cut off from the world and drowning in the heat and the smells and the sounds. I felt completely happy with my sexlife at that time. Half a year after that first time in my bed, we were wanking and watching each other, and he decided to take it up another notch and started fingering himself. I practically had my heart in my throat. At that time, it wasn’t...something you were prepared for as a normal bloke, I knew practically nothing that I hadn’t learnt from him, and I did find it kind of filthy, but thrilling to watch all the same. Even more filthy and thrilling to do it to him myself, after he’d shown me how he liked it and what I was supposed to do. A few weeks later, he said he wanted to try letting me top him. I’ve never been so bloody nervous in my whole life, but it was fucking hot. We didn’t do that often, though, he found he didn’t like it so much. But we did it often enough for me to learn some things.”

Sherlock grinned. “So I’ve noticed. Even when you were drunk I could tell you had had a man before. There are little things inexperienced men do or don’t do, and you didn’t hesitate, either, even though you were - considering the state you were in - remarkably gentle. Even drunk, you tried to hit the right spot. You also tried to touch me.”

Greg smiled about the way Sherlock said all that in such a hurry. Even half aroused, he didn’t seem to be able to turn off his brilliant mind sometimes. “Yeah, you shoved me away.”

“You were only a client then. I never liked it when a client managed to make me feel good in any way as long as I was up against a wall, and I was annoyed when you did exactly that. I always felt that I didn’t deserve to enjoy it, that I really shouldn’t enjoy it, and I felt I deserved to be punished if I did. But I’m happy about it now.” Sherlock brought his lips to Greg’s very gently. “Though I don’t deserve you, either,” he said quietly. “And you don’t deserve me, though in a wholly different…”

“Don’t, Sherlock, don’t give in,” Greg interrupted, just as quietly, but still with a firm edge to his voice. “You’re an infuriating, moody, smart, beautiful creature, and you may be completely fucked up underneath the surface, but then, so am I.”

“You’re good, underneath that fucked-up layer, but I’m not. You’re as close to a good man as they get.”

“You’ll be a good man some day. When you find something or someone worth being good for. And for the time being, you’re not a bad man.” He hugged the younger man to his chest and Sherlock curled up against him. Those mood swings had been their constant companions these last few days, but Greg always tried to be there when the depression hit Sherlock again out of nowhere. He didn’t say it, but he knew Sherlock tried to bury it instead of facing it, and he could even understand that. He was also sure Sherlock had only tried to get a bit of sex in this morning because he’d felt the dark thoughts looming over him, ready to strike. Sherlock was a man who liked distractions. Sex, for him, was a good distraction, as was pain. Some days or nights, Sherlock had pleaded with Greg to sleep with him or hurt him although he obviously wasn’t really in the mood, no doubt hoping that he’d be able to tune out the withdrawal symptoms, but the police officer had refused. The boy hadn’t been strong or stable enough. Today, it would be harder to resist anything Sherlock threw at him, and Greg was certain that he would try. 

“Tell me what I’m like again,” the young man murmured.

Greg had noticed almost from the beginning that Sherlock wanted, needed and relished praise, no matter what it was about. He had hoped that this desire was strong enough in Sherlock that it would help in getting him clean, and so far, it worked. So he put a hand on Sherlock’s head and stroked his hair while he let the other trail along the bony spine. “You’re infuriating and smart and beautiful. Sometimes even infuriatingly smart and beautiful. My pretty little boy. I know you feel bad, but you’re doing so well, and I’m proud of you, that you’ve handled this horrible week so well. You showed that you can be very strong.”

“You’re proud of me?” There was a childlike quality to Sherlock’s voice, but this time, it had nothing to do with his trying to be sexually alluring.

“Very,” Greg said with emphasis. “I’m very proud of how well you’re doing.”

“When I was young, nobody was ever proud of me,” the boy volunteered bitterly. “I was always just a disappointment.” Sherlock rested his chin on Greg’s shoulder, so that they couldn’t look at each other’s faces.

Hearing such a thing made Greg very angry. But he tried to keep his voice calm and soothing. “I’m sure that’s not true, baby. How could you be a disappointment, smart as you are?”

“I’m not the smart one. Mycroft is the smart one. Everyone always said so. Mycroft knew things and saw things others didn’t, he just could, I had to learn it all first. Sometimes, he would teach me, but he always mocked me for not being able to do it as effortlessly as he could. Him and his...brain.” The young man sounded sad and abject. “He never had to learn memory techniques, he just remembered everything, just like that. I spent my childhood trying to be as good as he is, even though I knew I’d never be.”

“Sherlock, baby, you always saw Mycroft as perfect, but he’s not. Do you really think that he never had to learn anything? He’s a smart-arse, and probably helpless about it, but still, he’s older and until you arrived, he had a lot of time to become the brilliant brother, and he sure as hell won’t tell you about how he did it. And I’m sure his baby brother was also the last one he would tell about anything he  _ couldn’t _ do. He probably liked that you looked up to him and tried to be like him, maybe it even made him want to be even more perfect. I don’t think he realised how inadequate he made you feel, at least not when you two were young.”

“He doesn’t care about me! He only cares about himself and his precious reputation.” Sherlock’s voice sounded whiny, which would have been annoying for Greg if he hadn’t known how deep this wound went.

“He cares a lot about you. I really think he does. He worries. About you.”

“No, he doesn’t.”

“He told me so.”

Sherlock sat back so he could see Greg’s face. “He did?”

“Yeah, he did. He also threatened me…”

“About the sex, yes, you told me. He really should keep his horribly large beak out of…”

“I don’t mean that, I couldn’t care less about that threat. No, he told me he’s prepared to go to any length for you, and if I did anything funny, I’d - quote -  see how far that is.”

Sherlock seemed to ponder that, but then shook his head slightly, and Greg gave it up for the moment. The boy simply didn’t want to see anything good about Mycroft for now, and he couldn’t exactly blame him.

“However,” Greg said, picking up the old thread, “If he’s never told you that he’s proud of you, he’s still a git. Because even though you got yourself into that situation, you’re showing the strength to get yourself out again, and not many people can do that.”

“You’re getting me out. I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I’m just helping you along. But you’re the one it comes from. And even though it’s not logical, because your achievement is not my doing in any way, I’m very proud of you. You’re doing very well.” Greg nuzzled Sherlock’s ear and resumed his caresses.

“Thank you,” Sherlock whispered.

For the moment, peace seemed to be restored to his brilliant mind, and he hung over Greg’s shoulder for a few more minutes, like an oversized, very lanky doll.

“Are you feeling a bit better, baby?” Greg asked after a few minutes. He didn’t want to disturb the boy, but even though he only weighed about a hundred and sixty pounds, his patient was getting heavy.

“Mhm. A bit. Thanks for telling me your story. Even though I didn’t touch myself that much.”

“As if you had to!”

“I wanted to. I have to admit, I’m almost jealous of your roommate. All the things he got to do...or had you do.”

“I suggest you get tested one last time, then, so that you can finally live without that fear. Then we can see if I’m still any good.” Greg couldn’t suppress a grin.

“Even if you’re not, I’ll still want you,” Sherlock said graciously.

Greg let out a dry snort. “I’m glad to hear that.”

Sherlock smiled and sighed. “Indulge me a little more?”

“By doing what?”

Sherlock hesitated only for a second. “Would you get tested, too? It would be...it would calm me. Knowing.”

Greg was a little surprised, but he shrugged and said: “If you want, sure.”

“When we’ve both been tested...would you take me without a condom?”

“Again, if you want. Why wouldn’t I?”

It was Sherlock’s turn to shrug. “It’s messier.”

“Oh, you know I like it messy,” said the older man, and grinned. “And I know you like it messy, too.” Greg leaned closer to Sherlock’s ear and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Remember that night you came too soon and I used your spunk to open you up and fed the rest to you with my fingers?”

Sherlock let out a trembling, shaky sound and wriggled on his partner’s lap. “Yes, I remember, daddy. It was nice.”

“And you liked being fed your own come, didn’t you?”

Sherlock giggled, and it sounded impossibly filthy. “It’s actually pretty healthy, daddy.”

Greg snorted. “You’re outrageous.” But he couldn’t suppress a smile.

“Feed me again, daddy?” Sherlock purred, his eyes flashing mischievously.

“I’ve got nothing to feed you with, baby,” Greg said, prompting, and slid a hand down Sherlock’s pants. “You’ll have to give me something to feed you with, first. Why don’t you show me again how you take care of yourself when I’m not there, and then I’ll feed you?”

Sherlock cast down his eyes coquettishly. “I don’t do that, daddy,” he lied smoothly. “I’m a good boy.”

“Tsk. You mustn’t lie to daddy, do you understand? I won’t tolerate it. I won’t punish you today, because you’re still sick, but I don’t want you to do it again,” Greg said in a firm voice, and squeezed the boy’s cock so that Sherlock yelped a bit, whether with pain or with arousal was impossible to say.

“I’m sorry, daddy, I won’t do it again,” he wheezed, and thrust up into Greg’s hand. He was properly hard now.

“Good boy. Now don’t be so lazy, I’m not doing all the work for you. Show me.” Greg let go, even though the young man keened and gyrated his hips wantonly.

Obediently, Sherlock pulled his pants down just enough, licked his palm and grabbed his cock, hard. With his left, he cupped his balls, and every time he rubbed over the head, he tugged lightly.

“Can I come whenever I want, daddy?” he rasped. Greg could hear the impatience in his voice; he hadn’t come in at least ten days. Probably longer.

“Yes, baby. This is about feeding you, remember?” He grinned impishly, and Sherlock’s lips twitched while his eyes lit up with arousal.

“Oh...want that…” The young man was pumping his cock frantically, and the sounds of skin on skin made the back of Greg’s neck tingle. They filled his whole world for a few minutes, but they were more than enough.

“Such a good boy,” he murmured into Sherlock’s ear. “You look lovely like that.” Gently, he let a finger trail around the base of the young man’s cock, through the nest of curly dark hair that had grown there in the weeks since Sherlock had stopped working as a prostitute.

Sherlock moaned. His eyes fluttered, closed, his mouth opened in a mute cry and he wrinkled his nose just a bit as he came. Greg loved the faces Sherlock made when he climaxed. The nose-wrinkle was adorable, and the open mouth nothing but scorching hot.

Greg watched as the pearly white liquid oozed over Sherlock’s hands and listened to the ragged breathing.

“You’ve no idea how fricking sexy you are,” he said warmly, and pushed Sherlock’s hand away with a gentle nudge of his fingers. He would have liked to just take the long, pale fingers into his own mouth and suck them clean, but he knew Sherlock wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he wiped his index and middle finger through the mess Sherlock had made on his bare stomach (the boy hadn’t bothered with a shirt beneath his blue robe just for breakfast) and brought them up to Sherlock’s plush lips, which closed around the digits instantaneously. The young man’s tongue licked Greg’s sensitive fingertips. Greg would have like to just remain like that, but pulled his fingers out, dipped them into Sherlock’s ejaculate again and kept feeding the boy until his stomach was reasonably clean. Sherlock looked for all the world like the cat who got the cream, literally, and licked his lips lasciviously. 

“Your fingers,” Greg prompted, and Sherlock lifted his hand to suck and lick his own digits clean. No matter how many lewd acts Greg had seen Sherlock perform, it still looked sinful when he did such things.

With his thumb, Greg wiped the corners of Sherlock’s mouth as if he might have spilled some drops.

“Satisfied, baby?”

Sherlock nodded. “But what about you?”

“I’m okay, baby.”

Sherlock pawed at the front of Greg’s trousers, looking a bit discontent. It was adorable.

“It’s fine, honey, really.”

“But...you’re not hard, daddy.”

Greg kissed Sherlock’s full lips. “I still enjoyed it very much, baby. A hard-on is no measure of affection, you should know that. And I’m also an old man. I’m not such a needy creature anymore. Now, up with you, we have a fridge to refill and dishes that won’t clean themselves.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: might any of you know how the hell I would be able to watch Sherlock in January if I'm in Europe but NOT in the land of wonderful BBC itself? If I have to wait for quarter of a year I might just go really, really mad and batshit crazy after that. So any tips are welcome. I want to lose my mind and cry my eyes out punctually, like, when the UK can see it, and apparently America, but I'd have to wait for at least three months. How do I do it? Help. Oh my gods, please help.
> 
>  
> 
> Yes, I'm annoying when I'm drunk, I'm so sorry, but it's really happening only once a year or so! LIKE SHERLOCK.  
> Sorry.  
> Good night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a first time for everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, while we're all still coherent and trying to pass the time until S04 airs, here's the rest of the story! I'll post both chapters at the same time, since I feel it would be better to read them both together.

For a few weeks, Sherlock came to Greg’s flat every day, at least after he had gotten Mycroft to unfreeze his account again and moved out in the first place. Greg noticed how hard Sherlock was still fighting his demons, and the drugs, but as he came round every single evening, Greg knew that the young man never gave in again. He continued to smoke, however, more than Greg did. The officer couldn’t blame him, and he didn’t try to get him to stop. He knew that Sherlock’s stress level was still going through the roof, and he couldn’t stop everything at once. Small steps would do it.

A good two months after the withdrawal-drama, Sherlock came over to Greg’s a bit later than he usually did. He’d been punctual these last few weeks, sometimes even earlier than the officer himself.

“You’re late.” Greg didn’t mean to cluck. But with an addict fresh off the drugs, being an hour late could mean bad things.

Sherlock removed his coat and hung it up, something he hadn’t always done. 

He simply loved that coat, though, Greg could see that. The thing had been the first really expensive piece of clothing Sherlock had bought with his brother’s money, and Greg found that he looked far less boyish in it. Nobody would mistake him for a tramp now, or a hooker. Most of Sherlock’s old clients probably wouldn’t even recognize him, not with his expensive clothes and longer hair. Also, nobody would dare not take Sherlock serious in that getup, nobody would treat him like they had back when he was a ragged homeless person. People who had known him before, like Anderson, thought that Sherlock just tried to look posh. But Greg knew better. The expensive clothes were disguise and armour in one for the young man. To show that he wasn’t Will anymore.

“I know I’m late. But I’ve got an alibi, officer,” he joked with a crooked smile and came strolling into the kitchen where Greg was preparing their dinner.

“I’m all ears.”

Instead of explaining, Sherlock handed Greg some official-looking papers. Greg knew immediately what they were; he’d got some of these a while back when he’d been tested like Sherlock had wanted. Sherlock’s own test had apparently taken a little longer, and Sherlock had been adamant about not telling Greg why. But it seemed that now, it was done.

Greg unfolded the pages and, knowing where he had to look, scanned the page.

“Told you so. But I’m still glad you have it in writing one last time,” he smiled and handed the papers back to Sherlock, who was grinning now.

“Me, too. The chance was small, I’ve been tested before, but I was still nervous.” The young man leaned into Greg, who stopped what he was doing to hold Sherlock for a moment. He knew that only now, Sherlock would accept that that part of his life was finally over, so it was more of a big moment than the young detective would admit out loud.

He felt the man’s plush lips wander along his jawline, and closed his eyes. It wasn’t like they hadn’t had sex these last few weeks, but it had definitely not been as often as before, or as passionate. At least, Sherlock had never again been as careless as before their fight, either.

Now, however, Greg could feel some of the fire of their early days in Sherlock’s touches as the young man nibbled at Greg’s skin.

“Will you sleep with me today? I want you. I want you raw. I want everything. Every messy little detail of it. I want to know what it’s like.”

Greg turned his head, slightly surprised. “You’ve really never done it without a condom?”

“I’ve never bottomed without, that’s all you need to know,” Sherlock smiled and looked from Greg’s eyes to his lips and back before he kissed him.

“What an honour,” Greg teased and kissed back, smiling.

Sherlock stopped for a moment and his face grew a bit more serious. “Just to be clear, I don’t want this with you out of some...sentimentality. I trust you, and I like you. You’re the only...friend-like person I have. You know that is all there is to it, don’t you?”

Greg chuckled. “I know, Sherlock.” The words would have hurt at least a little, some time ago, but now they didn’t. He wouldn’t say he fancied the young man (any longer); he liked him, plain and simple, and he enjoyed his company. Still, he found it quite adorable how Sherlock couldn’t say out loud that they were friends, when both men knew they were. If Sherlock wouldn’t allow himself the thought, Greg wouldn’t push him.

The young man scrutinised his face for a moment longer, then continued to kiss Greg’s lips and jawline, finally licking into the little hollow at the man’s throat while he let his hands wander to the front of Greg’s trousers.

“Hmmm...hey, Sherlock? I…”

“You’re hungry, I know,” Sherlock said, and sighed heavily, stopping his ministrations. Greg could see he wasn’t really mad, though. “I’ve often wondered how people can find food so important.”

“Some of us run on nutrients instead of cleverness,” Greg replied dryly and carried his plate to the living-room, pointedly shooting a look at the other plate and then to Sherlock, who rolled his eyes and picked it up, following his host.

They sat in companionable silence while they ate. Sherlock didn’t finish his plate, but then, he rarely ever did. Greg was happy to see the young man eat at all. His body now looked a little more healthy and his face had filled out a bit. He still looked a little boyish, but compared to the homeless-teen look he had had before, he was now even more of a handsome young man than he had ever been. What Greg liked most about all these new developments was that Sherlock’s eyes were now bright and alive all the time, never dull or glazed-over.

He felt those eyes on him when he set down his empty plate on the coffee table.

“Need a nap to help your digestion or something?” Sherlock asked mockingly.

“No, I’m fine.” Greg sat back lazily, as if he didn’t know that the young man next to him was growing impatient already.

Sherlock let out a little hiss. “Just checking. A man your age, well…”

“No need to be rude,” Greg interrupted calmly, and reached out to caress the young man’s thigh.

Sherlock hummed his appreciation and leaned closer. His hands started roaming Greg’s chest almost reverently, before he shifted on the couch and sat to face the older man. Slowly, he started unbuttoning the officer’s shirt, leaning forward to kiss every inch of newly exposed skin and looking up at Greg’s face every now and then to see his reactions.

Greg smiled at the effort Sherlock was making. The young man still wasn’t much of a fan of foreplay, but still indulged because he knew Greg liked it. When Sherlock wanted something, he wanted it  _ now _ . Which was why Greg enjoyed making him wait from time to time.

Carefully sucking on the other man’s right nipple, the young detective let his fingers play with the other, making Greg moan quietly. 

“If you find another reason to delay this, I swear, I’ll skin you alive,” Sherlock muttered, and Greg let out a laugh.

“Listen to you sweet-talking. So enticing. You better hold your sharp tongue.”

Sherlock flashed a dirty grin. “Really? I don’t think you mean that.” The long, pale fingers moved to open Greg’s trousers, and with another shift of his weight, Sherlock’s mouth sank down on the half-hard length.

“Mmmh, oh my pretty boy...god, your mouth…” Greg felt himself harden more at the sinful feeling. Having Sherlock’s mouth on him without a condom was simply spectacular. He fisted his hand in the dark locks. “Not so fast, Sherlock, you don’t want this to be over too soon, do you?”

The detective let go with an obscene wet sound and smiled. “No. We haven’t even really gotten started yet.” He grabbed the other man’s hand and got up, tugging Greg along to the bedroom, glancing behind him once and very obviously ogling Greg’s exposed chest and his open flies.

Greg didn’t mind one bit. For  _ a man his age _ it was nice to feel that someone like Sherlock found him attractive.

In the bedroom, Sherlock didn’t waste any more time; he tugged and pushed until Greg was finally naked and had his own clothes off in a minute. Pressing his naked body to Greg’s, he continued kissing the other man passionately, humming with pleasure as Greg reciprocated and stroked the milky white skin of  Sherlock’s back reverently.

“Lie down,” Greg instructed after a thorough snogging, and Sherlock complied, a hint of surprise mixing with the lust and slight nerviness on his face. The police officer could see that Sherlock was indeed nervous and feeling a little exposed, knowing that this time nothing would be between them. Resting a soothing hand on Sherlock’s abdomen, Greg crawled onto the bed, dropping a tube of lubricant next to them. He bent down to kiss along Sherlock’s belly and hip, knowing that the young man loved kisses to his hips, and caught the clean scent of the young man’s skin.

“You weren’t late because you just came from your appointment, right? You went home to shower.”

“Yes,” Sherlock choked out as Greg’s breath tickled the sensitive skin around his hip bones. 

“You didn’t prepare yourself, though, did you?”

“No. You don’t like when I’m prepared already. Makes you think of...well, before.”

Greg sighed and sucked a small bruise into the soft flesh between hip bone and crotch. Sherlock squirmed and keened. He was very ticklish. “Yes, maybe.”

“And I like when you prepare me, too,” Sherlock said, a little more quietly, while trying to keep his breathing steady.

Greg smiled. “I like preparing you. Though you never let me do it the way I would have liked to. But now…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but instead let his breath ghost over the length of Sherlock’s cock that lay hard against the man’s lower belly. The detective’s breath hitched a little. Waiting for any sign of discomfort that never came, Greg started licking along the shaft, and, after Sherlock had uttered a little groan and closed his eyes, he took the boy’s manhood into his mouth. Alternating sucking at the sensitive head and taking it deeper, Greg relished the sounds Sherlock made at the sensations. He was quite sure that nobody had done this for the young man, at least not in the last ten years or so.

“Fuck, oh! Yes! God yes! Ah! You really haven’t...mmmh, you really haven’t been lying about your skills…”

Greg pulled off for a moment, giving Sherlock a few seconds to breathe while he grabbed the lubricant and slicked up two fingers. “Glad to hear I’m not all that rusty in that department.”

“Pfff, rusty,” Sherlock muttered, spreading his legs a bit more, almost automatically, staring up at the ceiling with wide, lustful eyes. He moaned again as the other man started to open him up, cursing under his breath when he felt Greg’s mouth back on his cock at the same time that a second finger breached his hole.

“This...is this what you wanted to do?” Sherlock asked in a breathless whisper.

Greg let go of the hard length but kept his fingers where they were as he sat up. “Yes, among other things.” His fingers slid in and out of the warm body before him, and Sherlock wiggled on them, obviously enjoying himself.

“More,” the young man demanded, whining a bit.

Greg complied and let a third finger slip inside, massaging the tight muscle and searching for the young man’s prostate. When he found it, Sherlock let out a low groan and bent his legs, pulling them up so they were folded on his upper body, exposing his nether regions completely.

“Mmmh, keep doing that for a moment,” Sherlock pleaded, reaching for Greg’s other hand to hold onto. 

For a few minutes, Sherlock was almost eerily quiet as Greg worked inside him with his fingers. The only thing that disrupted the silence from time to time was Sherlock’s irregular breathing or a quiet moan. Otherwise, the young man seemed to be completely gone. His eyes were closed, and an expression of pure bliss was visible on his face. Greg smiled and let him have his moment, merely watching and keeping his fingers moving. At some point, Sherlock’s brows furrowed, and his hips began to twitch. His breathing became even more ragged and his mouth opened with a deep, deep moan.

“Do you want to come?” Greg asked, honestly leaving the decision to the young man.

“I...yes. Make me!” Sherlock choked out, and Greg continued his ministrations, keeping it gentle so the young man could enjoy the climax creeping up on him slowly.

He watched as the pale body before him twitched, then started to writhe, and finally bucked up into thin air, trying to find some more stimulation. Yet, Sherlock didn’t make a move to touch his leaking cock, he just lay there, panting and moaning, shivering from the fingers that tormented him. Finally, Greg felt the whole body tense up and Sherlock came with an almost distressed, desperate cry.

Patiently, Greg waited for the laboured breathing to become normal again.

“Sorry, it just felt...too good. Give me...a few moments.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t planning to pressure you about anything or jump you right away.”

“Hm, maybe you should. But then again, I want to feel you properly. Just a minute.”

“As I said, I’m not in a hurry.”

Sherlock made a bit of a sad face. “Sometimes I almost feel like you’re losing interest in me. Suppose it would serve me right if that were the case, but…”

“Sherlock, stop that,” Greg drawled, and petted the young man’s dark hair. “I’m not losing interest. You’re too bloody hot for your own good. But I’m going on fifty, baby. The time when I could maintain a raging boner almost indefinitely without being touched, or the times when I was horny all the time, is over. And I’ll be back in the game soon enough. Nothing you have to worry about.” He gave Sherlock a peck on the lips.

The other man, however, continued to frown, then smiled apologetically. “I’ve neglected you.”

“No you haven’t. Or rather, I wouldn’t have wanted you to take care of me, I wanted you to enjoy it and you did, and I liked that. Don’t worry about not giving as much as you’re getting.” 

Greg caressed Sherlock’s upper body and hips, but Sherlock sat up.

“Lestrade, it was my job to give without receiving, for a long time. And as soon as that changed, I got greedy and took without giving, from you. I’m trying to be better. I’m trying to show I’ve learned something.” He really did seem upset with himself.

Trying to soothe the young man, Greg put a hand to Sherlock’s cheek. “Shh, Sherlock, don’t beat yourself up about that. I mean, I’m glad you are trying to give something back. And you do, you’re not neglecting me. You’ve been much more attentive these last few weeks, really. Before you ran off, I did feel neglected. But now I don’t. I feel good with you. Yes?”

Sherlock took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Such episodes had happened frequently since his withdrawal, but Greg always managed to help him through.

“Yes. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be.”

Sherlock seemed to pull himself together and reached out to touch Greg’s body. “Do you still want to go on?”

“Do you?”

Sherlock nodded, smiling, and continued to caress the other man, slowly getting back into the mood. “Yes.”

Greg smiled back and leaned into Sherlock’s touch to show his interest. “Now, if you want me to take you properly, you should help me get hard again. After all…” he murmured and abruptly turned the boy onto his stomach and lay heavily on his back, “...you’re the one who wanted to get his little hole fucked tonight, am I right? You’ve been begging all evening. Haven’t you?” He rubbed himself lightly against the younger man’s smooth skin and was happy to really see the switch flip in Sherlock’s head at his words.

Sherlock let out a deep sigh. “Yes. I have. I want you. I want to feel you properly.” He pushed his arse up against Greg’s hardening manhood. “Maybe I shouldn’t have let you finger me so much. I like when it hurts a bit. But on the other hand, maybe my hole will feel a little abused already after what you’ve done, hm? Would serve the same purpose.” Sherlock must have felt Greg harden even more, because he giggled. “Ah, you still like the thought of hurting me a little, don’t you? Yes, I know you, Lestrade, I know you relish control and power, I know you love when I writhe underneath you, I know how your pulse goes through the roof when you have your hand on my throat and you choke me. I know you liked whipping me with your belt like a naughty schoolboy. And I know you like calling me your whore, even though you’re ashamed of that, because you think it’s too close to the truth.” Sherlock twisted his head around and signalled that he wanted a kiss. Greg leaned forward to comply. “I like when you call me your whore,” Sherlock whispered against Greg’s lips, and the older man’s breath hitched at the words. “It means I’m not anyone else’s. And I enjoy being your whore.” They kissed again, just a quick bite at the other one’s lips. “So use me accordingly,” Sherlock breathed.

Greg groaned. “You should be so ashamed for what’s going on in your filthy mind.”

Sherlock grinned. “I refuse to. And your mind isn’t any less filthy. And that’s good. It means you can give me what I need when you fuck me. Come on…” Sherlock arched his back so that Greg had to sit up straight, and rose to his knees only to lift his hips and lower his shoulders, so he was presenting his rear like a dog.

For a short moment, Greg let his fingers trail over the smooth flesh. He didn’t press them inside Sherlock’s still glistening hole again, though, but simply knelt behind the younger man and slicked up his cock that now stood at full attention. He, too, hadn’t done it without a condom in a very long time, with neither man nor woman, and he was quite excited himself. Somehow, it felt like a big step with Sherlock, and his possessive side told him that many men had fucked Sherlock’s body, but only he himself got to enjoy the whole package.

Without further warning or preparation, Greg pushed inside in one long, slow movement, and dear god, the noise Sherlock made! It sounded almost agonized, and Greg might have asked if everything was okay, had Sherlock not started to push back onto the cock that was filling him.

“Fuck me,” Sherlock demanded, shuffling a bit to find a spot where his hands could find purchase so he could hold himself up better. “Come inside me.”

Greg moaned. “You really want that, do you? Fine.” 

He began thrusting into the pliant, warm body, holding onto Sherlock’s slender hips. Sherlock continued to moan sinfully, still pushing back, getting louder as Greg grabbed the long, dark hair and pulled slightly.

For some time, the young man let Greg have his way with him, whining as he took the hard thrusts, but very obviously enjoying himself very much. And yet, at some point, Sherlock let go of his secure hold on the blankets and reached behind himself to put his hand over Greg’s, who slowed down and finally paused his movements. It was clear that the boy wanted something, and Greg had known him long enough to see that he was struggling to say it out loud. There had been so many filthy things that Greg had heard come out of that mouth, but there were words Sherlock always struggled with. Judging by the hesitant silence, Sherlock wanted some tenderness and didn’t know how to say.

“Turn around and let me see your face, baby?” Greg phrased it as a question, to see if it was what the young man wanted, and sure enough, there was a miniscule sigh of relief and a nod before Sherlock moved forward, breaking their physical connection, and turned to lie down. As Greg crawled over him, the man wouldn’t meet his eyes, but after Greg had settled between Sherlock’s spread legs, he grabbed his face and turned it towards him to kiss those lips. Sherlock melted into it hungrily. Sometimes, Greg didn’t know whether he found Sherlock’s inability to voice his needs for such things endearing or rather worrying.

Deciding to be gentle with the other man, Greg shifted and slowly sheathed himself in the enticing warmth again. Sherlock only whimpered a little and then was silent. His eyes were pleading, and he looked somehow vulnerable and young, only this time it wasn’t a mask or a game, the older man could see that much. Without moving his hips, Greg leaned forward to kiss Sherlock again, tenderly, reverently, for a few long minutes, to cater to that terrible need he could see in Sherlock’s eyes. They were almost sad, and suddenly, all of this felt terribly like a good-bye. Greg pushed the thought aside and slowly started to move his hips again. He took Sherlock’s legs and pushed them up over his shoulders, and the younger man underneath him keened needily.

“Ah, yes, like that, just like that...oh…”

“You like that, baby?” Greg’s breathing was laboured. Without a condom and with the incredible tightness of Sherlock’s body around him, he didn’t know if he could last like this. But Sherlock seemed to read his mind.

“Mmmh, yes, yes, can you come like that? Want to see your face. I want to feel you like that. Can you? Come?” Sherlock sounded wonderfully breathless.

Greg pressed a quick kiss to the full lips before him. “Already? If you need more, I’ll manage.”

“No, I’m good, I just want to...please...come inside me, please!” 

Greg felt Sherlock’s muscles squeezing him tightly. It was probably too soon after the other man’s first orgasm, so his body wouldn’t climax again, but from the face beneath him, Greg knew he would have if his body would have let him. The older man let go, knowing that it would soon be agony for Sherlock to continue feeling like this. He let his release wash over him, relishing the strange possessive feeling that gripped him while he thrust into the pliant body, and came inside the young man with a shudder and a deep groan.

As his brain came back online, he became aware of the fact that Sherlock was clutching his hips, as if to hold Greg in place and to tell him not to pull out yet.

Greg gave the other man a peck on the lips. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Greg smiled. They had had this exchange before, though it felt like those had been two different people in a completely different world. 

“Just asking. It was a new experience and I want to know that you’re happy and satisfied.”

Sherlock smiled. “I am. It was good. I liked it. Thank you.” He gave Greg a quick kiss. Then he released the older man’s hips from his vice-like grip. “I should go get cleaned up.”

“Hmm. Join me in the shower?” Greg asked.

Sherlock nodded. “That will probably be the easiest solution.”

The two men got up, and the police officer saw Sherlock wince at the feeling of come dripping down his thighs. Greg could only just suppress a laugh when the young man’s face actually turned a little red with embarrassment. Usually, Sherlock wasn’t very squeamish about bodily fluids. Only knowing how Sherlock hated being laughed at held him back.

In the shower, Sherlock wiped his hand between his arse cheeks moodily. “Well, the thought is far more enticing than the actual feeling. I’m just wondering how I’ll get rid of all of this.”

Greg allowed himself a chuckle, turned the young man by his shoulders like a child and pressed a hand against his back to make him bend over a bit. Sherlock looked a little taken aback, but let him do it, a sign of how much he trusted  his ‘friend-like person’. He did let out a yelp, though, when Greg slid two fingers inside his still-loose hole and scissored them gently.

“Lestrade!”

The older man grinned. “What? You wanted to get rid of the stuff.”

“Well, but don’t just grab me and put your fingers up my arse,” the young man griped, but he didn’t struggle.

Greg paused and caressed the milky white skin on Sherlock’s back carefully. “I’m sorry if I was too rough. I didn’t want to spook you. Probably wasn’t okay of me.”

Sherlock nodded and his facial expression softened somewhat. He actually pushed back onto Greg’s fingers, letting him work them in and out a few times, and shuddered at the feeling. 

Greg pulled his fingers out and kissed the back of Sherlock’s neck. “Better?”

Sherlock nodded. “I guess.”

When they went to bed a few minutes later, Greg settled in behind Sherlock.

“By the way, I won’t be available for any crime scenes tomorrow, maybe longer. You’ll have to make do.”

“Oh,” Greg said, a little perplexed. Then: “Why? Do you have better plans?”

Sherlock leaned into the older man’s touch and pushed his pillow in shape. “‘Better’, in that case, is disputable. Mycroft wants me. He says he thinks I’m clean enough to help him with some really important stuff. Boring national security, probably. I don’t know how long it will take.”

Greg hummed, but didn’t answer. He asked himself if this was some kind of effort to take Sherlock away from him, which was laughable, since they weren’t a couple or anything similar. Sure, Greg felt protective of Sherlock and he liked the young man, but whatever ‘crush’ he had had on him was over and done. He did care for him a lot, and he was quite glad that Sherlock didn’t want to pin a name on it, because Greg wouldn’t have known a word for what they were, anyway. At the very least, he cared enough about the young man that he didn’t like how final, how like a good-bye this still felt. There was a bittersweet touch to Sherlock’s mood that worried Greg. If Sherlock had been in any way romantic, which he wasn’t, Greg would have believed the man had wanted to spend a last night with him before leaving. Again, Greg shoved the thought aside. There was certainly plenty of time left for them to be together like this.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to wrap it up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more like a bittersweet epilogue. When I started writing this story, I already knew that this was where everything was going, so we've come full circle.
> 
> At this point I want to thank each and every one of you for reading, staying with the story and me. Can't believe it's only been a month, this story just wrote itself, kinda.  
> For those who are curious, I don't know when there'll be anything else, because, WRITER'S BLOCK. I haven't really written anything new (and good) in the last few weeks and that sucks, most of all for me. Hopefully, S04 will cure me. I've had so many ideas in the past but none of those seems really ready to be written down. Hate that. But life's been so busy, what with all the holidays and stuff, so maybe there'll be more as soon as things are calm and boring again, 'cause that's when my sick brain usually starts brimming with new stuff. I've been trying to Johnlock, but it just won't work *grumbles* plus, I've got a big story that needs tweaking but it won't work, either, I won't let me. Seems it would rather start to go mouldy on my virtual shelf than change for the better and get posted *glares at it*.  
> Ahm, yes. Aaaaanyone have prompts or something? Requests? Wishes?
> 
> Otherwise, I wish all of you a Happy New Year, and a happy Series 04... Who am I kidding. It's all gonna end in tears anyway.  
> See ya when we're all crashing tumblr and thanks again so much for reading! :)

The sense of unease Greg had had since that night lifted slowly as time went on. Actually, to Greg, it was almost creepy how fast the next few months flew by. And they weren’t boring, by all means.

He and Sherlock fought sometimes, but at least, the fights were never as bad as the first one. Regarding work, Greg had been consulting the young man for many months now, and whenever he had a particularly hard case, he called Sherlock immediately, especially when lives were at stake and they had to act quickly. Greg’s colleagues hated the haughty hobby detective, but his results were unquestionable. The sheer brilliance of some deductions also made many officers suspicious, but as much as some (especially Anderson) tried to get a scrap of evidence that Sherlock had anything to do with the case, there never was any.

 

About a year and a half after the two men had met, Greg got promoted to Detective Inspector. At first, he made a fuss about how his results were due to Sherlock, but the young man told him that he genuinely thought Greg had earned it. There was, he said, after all, no chance that Greg wouldn’t have learned some tricks from his almost-flatmate-and-friend in such a long time. Greg also had reason to suspect that Mycroft Holmes had his fingers in there somewhere, but again, Sherlock managed to convince him that he had earned it, and that everything else had just been a little push in the right direction.

“You are one of the brightest officers in all New Scotland Yard, stop telling yourself that it’s me. Be happy about it and shut up.”

Sherlock did a lot of convincing in those days, but at some point, Greg decided to believe it and / or give up.

Greg did like his new position very much. His colleagues still didn’t like Sherlock for the arrogant behaviour he displayed at crime scenes, but that was to be expected, and as head of the team, Greg didn’t have to argue about it, at least. Anderson still made a fuss sometimes, hissing that Sherlock would ‘contaminate’ his crime scene, as though he were still something filthy, but Sherlock acted as if he was above such things, even though Greg sometimes noticed a small glint of hurt in the young detective’s eyes that only he could see. 

That changed over the weeks and months, until Greg couldn’t read Sherlock at crime scenes anymore. He had seen the man change over and over, and one of the most drastic changes was whenever Sherlock’s brain kicked in at a crime scene. That man and the man he shared a bed with every now and then, were two very different persons. At least, Greg could still read the man he went home with. For now.

Sharing a bed, however, was something that happened less and less. Sherlock still came over once or twice a week, for sex or just for being together, until at some point, it was two or three times a month. They saw each other regularly for work, but Greg still missed the intimacy a bit. It felt like a drawn-out breakup, and since this one didn’t end a relationship but seemingly a friendship, it hurt all the more. Sherlock was better, he’d done it, and even though Greg had to pointedly ignore one or two nights where Sherlock was definitely drunk, he was off the drugs. And Greg was very thankful for that. He wasn’t thankful for their growing apart. It hurt when Greg noticed that sometimes, he was even unable to read the man when they were alone now.

 

Eventually, Greg got used to the thought that whatever he had had with Sherlock was over. He still missed him sometimes, but he knew they both had to get on with their lives. And they weren’t completely separate lives, which was at least one silver lining.

It was still a huge shock when the man came round one night for dinner and talking, and told him he was planning to leave for some time.

“Leave? Whereto? For how long?”

“Florida,” Sherlock said, leaning back and staring into his wineglass for a moment. “An old friend of my mother’s, her husband has been in prison over there for twenty-something years now, for drugs, and I mean, a shitload of drugs. He’s one of the biggest drug lords, global business, and he’s been trying to fight his way out. He’s on death row, and should have been executed some weeks ago, but he wasn’t. My mother’s friend is worried he’ll get out somehow, and then come looking for her, or start doing business again.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Greg asked, aghast about such a story.

Sherlock put his glass down, keeping his hand on the table, and looked out the window. “Make sure he doesn’t miss the substitute date for his execution, of course. Mycroft gave me the case and all the power I’ll need for it. I just have to find the certain something.” 

The relationship between the two brothers was still tense, but there had been progress after Greg had seen the older Holmes brother again some time ago and told Mycroft that he should do his best to keep Sherlock’s brain busy if he wanted him off the drugs permanently. And it seemed that Mycroft had risen to it.

“So...you’re going abroad. Florida. Long?” Greg tried to ignore the hollow feeling in his stomach.

“Could take some time. Maybe Mycroft will find something else, too, he all but said that I’d have to keep travelling after that guy is dead. A few months, maybe a year, or more. I don’t know.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Two days.” Sherlock looked up at the Detective Inspector. “I’ll come back. I’m always coming back to London, no matter how long it takes. I’ll spend those two days with my brother, going over the details. But I wanted to see you before I left. I…” Sherlock hesitated, as if he’d wanted to say something, but then decided to say something different. “I need a clear head for this case. I’ll try to lock away or delete anything that would make me vulnerable.”

Greg nodded; Sherlock had explained at some point how his mind palace worked, this memory technique he had learned to keep up with Mycroft.

“The thought of having left you behind would...distract me. I could...probably...come to sort of...miss you. I can’t have that. But I want to say that whatever will vanish into the parts of my mind I never access, I am immeasurably grateful for your...help. Over the years. You still know almost nothing about me, but you know there are things I never say. There are a lot of things I never said and I won’t say them now.” Sherlock looked up and for a tiny moment, Greg could see what Sherlock had been able to hide from him for months: emotions, running high. He could see Sherlock was troubled and sad. “The things I can’t say...they’re not less true just because I can’t say them, though. I hope you understand that.”

Greg nodded. Two years ago, he would have been sad, or angry. But even though it was true that he still had the feeling like he didn’t know Sherlock very well, he also knew how Sherlock ticked. Sherlock could deal with gruesome crime scenes, with dumb and hateful people, and with baffling mysteries. What he couldn’t deal with was himself and human emotions, including his own. In two years, Sherlock had never uttered a word about what he felt for Greg, apart from that he liked him, but he had never said anything about friends or lovers, because he couldn’t deal with those concepts. Sherlock loved running headlong into danger and away from himself and others, as if he wasn’t quite at peace with himself yet. Maybe he’d never be.

So Greg also knew the only suitable answer.

“I’ll miss working with you.”

For any outsider, it may have sounded cruel and cold, but Greg knew from the barely concealed pain in Sherlock’s eyes that the other man needed to hear something like that now, or he’d probably crumble. Voicing anything of what they really felt in that moment would have only made things harder, would have hurt more, and the police officer knew Sherlock would appreciate what he’d said as a display of strength, for him. That was the only thing Greg could still give the younger man.

And really, Sherlock nodded, and he threw Greg a thankful look. “Me, too.”

The private detective got up and walked to the door very slowly, grabbing his coat and putting it on while Greg followed and watched.

“Until we meet again,” Sherlock said rigidly, and Greg knew that face. Sherlock  _ was _ crumbling inside and had to concentrate on keeping it together so hard that the result was a stony face and an outstretched hand, nothing more. Others would think Sherlock was being cold, while the older man knew it was the exact opposite.

Feeling a bit numb but fighting to keep a straight face for Sherlock, Greg shook the hand Sherlock offered. The young man needed it to go down like this, and Greg would do him the favour if it killed him. In some kind of perfect story, there would have been one last kiss, maybe even one last night. But Greg only squeezed Sherlock’s hand before he let go.

“Don’t stay away for too long, London’s criminals might start to feel too safe and wreak some havoc if they notice you’re gone.”

“You’ll still be here, I’d like to see them try.” 

Sherlock pointedly looked at Greg’s lips for a few seconds, but didn’t move forward, because he couldn’t. Greg got the message, though, and smiled.

“Thank you.”

“No, thank you,” Sherlock said, and the next moment, he was out the door for the last time.

  
  
  


Whenever Sherlock came back, he didn’t stay for very long before Mycroft sent him on his next mission.

He would come to crime scenes and have a look and help, and be distant and clever, and then he’d vanish again.

Although Greg would never forget what they had had together, three years of practical absence on Sherlock’s part helped him get over it. They had grown apart, things had changed, and five years after they had started off rather adventurously, they were colleagues and nothing more, and Greg was mostly okay with that. They had found each other when they had both been broken, and they had helped fix each other. And those days were long gone. That didn’t change the fact that he often missed the man.

It had been a long time since Sherlock had had an actual flat in London, so when Greg bounded up the stairs of the Victorian building in Baker Street, he hoped that this meant Sherlock would stay this time.

Sherlock already knew why he was coming, and, as usual, refused to come with him in a police car. Too many bad memories, probably. Greg hadn’t actually paid much attention to anybody else in the room, but when Sherlock arrived at the crime scene, he was followed by another man, shortish, with sandy, not quite graying hair and a crutch. Greg remembered vaguely seeing him in the flat earlier.

“Who is this?” he asked.

“He’s with me,” Sherlock answered in a clipped voice.

“But who is he?”

“I said, he’s with me.”

Greg shut his mouth and sighed inwardly. He could see from everything that followed at the crime scene that the two of them didn’t know each other very well yet. But Greg did also see the sparkling in Sherlock’s eyes when the man, a retired army doctor, apparently, responded to Sherlock’s deductions with exclamations of praise. Greg knew that sparkle. He had seen it often enough, many years ago. And he could see that even Sherlock didn’t know yet what was a perfectly obvious deduction for Greg: Sherlock was hooked. There was no way he wouldn’t fall for the slightly older man, in whichever strange way Sherlock fell for people. And Greg could only hope that Doctor Watson knew what he had gotten himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UPDATE FROM MAY 2017: I am working on a sequel, folks, I really am. Even two, actually. I started, I have a lot written already, and I swear I am not one to scrap my work, I WILL finish this. But right now, my brain pushes another story for my other universe, a very dark one, and it has to be written first, like poison that you have to suck from a wound before you can continue with anything else. But I'm working, every day, in fact. I hope you'll stay with me, I love you all so much!


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